On the Morality of the Jedi
by Vispma
Summary: On the Morality of the Jedi is a blend of fanfiction and philosophy that aims to apply the work of Friedrich Nietzsche to the Star Wars universe. When an introspective but naive Padawan is paired with a veteran and intemperate Knight, their greatest enemy may not be Separatists but rather one another. Yet making their peace with the Jedi Code - and each other - may come too late.
1. Introduction

In the course of my sprawling, decades long fandom of the _Star Wars_ universe, I've heard a great many things. I've heard the theory that the Empire purposefully destroyed the Death Star to nip popular support for the rebellion in the bud by branding the Alliance as terrorists (After all, they had the resources and the Wookie-hours to build a spare); I've entertained the idea that Obi-Wan is actually a clone named OB-1 (which explains why Old Ben doesn't recognize R2-D2 or C-3PO in the Jutland Waste when he rescues Luke from the Tusken raiders in _A New Hope_ ); and I've even argued on behalf of Ewoks while railing against Gungans (at least Wicket never introduced legislation paving the way for a dictator for life). In other words, you could might even say that I've flown from one side of this geek galaxy to the other, and I've heard a lot of strange stuff, but I've never heard anything to make me believe two oft-mentioned contentions: first, that Stars Wars is principally for kids, and second, that the Jedi Order is anything but an organized religion. Let's take each of these assertions in kind, for I believe that what is at stake in each of these contentions is ultimately very much the same concern.

The assertion that the _Star Wars_ films - but really the whole axis of comic, games, and toys - is primarily a work of fiction made to be consumed by kids is as old as A _New Hope_ (which is to say, 0 BBY). These space westerns were Joseph Campbell's "Hero with a Thousand Faces," sophisticated enough to work as a framework for a compelling work of cinema for adults, but simple enough (or universal enough, if you believe folks like Levi-Strauss) for children to understand and appreciate. It always seemed to me that this line of reasoning was never really controversial until the prequel trilogy was released. Shakespeare said it best when he famously wrote, "Hell hath no fury like that of nerd-rage." In other words, by 1999, the chickens had come home to roost: the children that the original _Star Wars_ had seemingly been "for" had grown into adults, with discretionary income and opinions of their own.

Admittedly, Lucas' heavy-handed film-making merited much of this scorn. Though I am no Mr. Plinkett, I have no love for Lucas' treatment of his own creation. I feel only a strong sense of antipathy towards what we fans got in Episodes I-III and a weak sense of longing for what might have been. Yet whining about the theft of one's childhood has never sat well with me. Like one ought to respond to dreadful but protected Free Speech not by banning objectionable speech but by countering it with more speech, _Star Wars_ fans who were disappointed in Lucas' prequels should not waste their breath berating what are objectively poor films, but rather ought to respond with their own, superior treatment of the _Star Wars_ universe.

And we have. For ways to attempt redress (or just catharsis), I recommend the 2009 film _Fanboys;_ Darth and Droid's fantastic treatment of _The Phantom Menace_ (1); Hong Jacga's re-visioning of the events between a Episode III and IV (2); and/or more generally Dave Filoni's rather adroit treatment of the kids-or-adults audience issue in _The Clone Wars_ and _Rebels_.) I think fans of _Star Wars_ understand the tone, theme, and spirit of _Star Wars_ better than its original creator, and the stuff we have collectively created, I think, proves me right - fingers crossed that this extends to J.J. Abrams.(3)

But this attempt at the reconstruction of _Star Wars_ by its older fans has invited a counter-reformation of its own. Tired of the shrill tenor of adult _Star Wars_ fans, many people paint us as bitter purists with no social lives who simply need to grow up and move on. To spill the wind from our sails, the counter-reformation has attempted to destabilize the grounds of geek-critique by resurrecting the assertion that _Star Wars_ has always has been and always will be intended for consumption by children. For my part, I tend to think that most these folks are just aggrieved to have to listen to us older fans who feel slighted - think of the 2010 documentary _The People vs. George Lucas -_ and therefore their efforts can be dismissed as _ad hominem_. However, that does not necessarily mean that the point about the audience question is resolved.

 **A Question of Audience**

This audience question is clearly contested ground - but it does not have to be an acrimonious debate. Indeed, perhaps the best and most reasonable of these kinds of counter-reformation pieces is a 2012 essay written by associate Professor Bret Asbury titled "Don't Give in to Hate: How a Child of the genial _Star Wars_ trilogy learned to love the prequels." Asbury's thesis is simple: as a self-identified fan of the original _Star Wars_ , he regarded the prequel films with utter contempt - that is, until he had a son. Watching Episodes I, II, and III with his own son (let's at least hope he had the good sense to screen the Machete Cut)(4), Asbury was struck by the fact that the effect these films had on his son were similar to his own upon watching the original trilogy. "I reluctantly allowed him to watch _Episodes I-III_ , and was surprised to discover that he liked them just as much as _Episodes IV-VI_ , if not more so," Asbury writes of his son. By the time he reflected on the fact that he, a grown man, was sitting on the couch watching _The Clone Wars_ on Cartoon Network, "it finally dawned on me that as a thirtysomething veteran of the original trilogy, I was no longer a member George Lucas' target audience." This seems sensible enough to me - but then Asbury drops his thesis like a proton torpedo down an exhaust port: "These movies are for children. Let me say that one more time: They are children's movies, like _Wreck It Ralph_ or _Madagascar_ or _Alvin and the Chipmunks_. I now see clearly that the original trilogy is not nearly as good as we'd like to remember it-and _Episodes I-III_ are on equal footing with, and at times surpass, their predecessors."(5)

Let that sink in for a moment: 1977 is to 2012 as _A New Hope_ is to _Wreck it Ralph?_ Those are fighting words, sir.

So what does Asbury have to back this up? The acting in the original trilogy is staid. Like the original trilogy, the special effects of the prequels are pretty compelling for their time. The plot is not exactly logic-proof. ("How is it that the whole of Luke's excursion to the Dagobah System and primary training with Yoda takes place in the same temporal window that Han and the rest of the crew spend hiding out and being chased by a Star Destroyer?") In light of this evidence, Asbury suggests that geek-critique as a genre overlooks the larger point: "Rather than continue the misguided, nostalgia-soaked veneration of the first trilogy, it's time to hand _Star Wars_ back over to its intended audience and celebrate the fact that today's children will soon have nine _Star Wars_ films to treasure," Asbury concludes.

Writing at io9, Germain Lussier lights upon a similar conclusion: "Who is _Star Wars_ for now? With Disney at the controls, _Star Wars_ doesn't seem to be for a 30 or 40-year-old fans anymore, if it ever was," Lussier muses. "More than ever, _Star Wars_ is for 10-year-olds who can grow with it."(6)

These are fair points. And Asbury himself concedes that in many place, the prequels are difficult, if not impossible, to defend. But is he right about his larger contention? Is _Star Wars_ really for kids?

Full disclosure: I've never seen _Wreck it Ralph._ I realize a host of classic Disney films seem to require the traumatic death of a protagonist's parents in the opening five minutes of their "kids movies." In other words, I get it - when you're a movie-going kid in 2015, you grow up fast. But am I crazy to think that we might call _Wreck it Ralph_ a movie for kids because a busy parent could leave their children to watch it without being concerned it may contain themes of oppression, violence, warfare, or feature zero instances of traumatic maulings, dismemberment, or patricide?

I'm not sold by Asbury's claim that _Star Wars_ are kid's movies in the same way _Wreck it Ralph_ is. However, rather than delve further into that question, I'd like to ask a different one, a more pragmatic one: if the intended audience for _Star Wars_ is in fact _primarily_ children (and I am not saying that it is) in the same way that film like _Wreck it Ralph_ most certainly is, what messages are we sending them when we screen _Star Wars_?

Even as committed fans, we have to admit neither _Star Wars_ trilogy is exactly a beacon of progressivism - or even very attentive world-building for that matter. For starters, the first trilogy is notoriously devoid of female characters; Leia and Mon Mothma are the only that come to mind in a galaxy which I presume in all its diversity must certain contains species that biologically, let alone socially, defy gender binaries. The galaxy MUST be inhabited by more than two human women. In a related concern, love and romance are a central theme of the both trilogies ("I know," you might respond roguishly) but it is all heterosexual love and romance. Though the canon got its first LGBTQ character in Moff Mors, a character in _Star Wars: Lords of the Sith_ novel written by Paul Kemp, it's hardly enough; these characters need screen time.

And this brings me to another point: _Star Wars_ is a very embodied universe - slave Leia's curvaceous-accentuating bikini, Anakin's creepy lust for Padme rollicking in the grass of Naboo, the traumatic loss of Luke's hand by his own father's blade - yet the films don't really acknowledge or deal with issues of gender politics. Some have speculated that the _Star Wars_ universe is one where such concerns have faded into the background of daily life and as such isn't an issue to the denizens of this universe.(6) But this strikes me as wish fulfillment with a sci-fi patina. I mean, after viewing all six seasons of _The Clone Wars_ \- a story which principally follow Anakin and his female Padawan Ahsoka Tano as they go gallivanting across space in the Republic Navy fighting the Separatists - I couldn't help but think, "Gee, on all-male crewed Venetor-class cruiser, where does Ahsoka find a bathroom?"

At this point, we might imagine an Asburyian rebuttal: "That's the rub. These films and shows don't _need_ to address where Asokha finds a bathroom because their audience is composed of children. Children aren't concerned with Simone de Beauvoir and gender and power like you are. You can't burden these films with concerns they are not equipped nor intended to meet."

To this, I would say: if _Star Wars_ is really for kids, doesn't that mean these films should invite extra scrutiny, not less, for targeting children? Not to mention, this might be a galaxy a long time ago and far, far away, but the story of _Star Wars_ is ultimately still for us here on Earth.

And boy, do we still got problems down here.

This brings us to the second contention: that the Jedi and their religion are super problematic.

 **A Religion Hiding in Plain Brown Robes**

That the Jedi are portrayed as warrior monks a part of a religion, especially in the prequels, is not a new insight. But the Jedi are not just any religion; their monkish order is shaped into a very particular organization (a paramilitary force led an un-democratic command hierarchy that recruits child soldiers) and has a very particular theology (an absolutist metaphysics that compels its believers to asceticism). The Jedi's depiction as the nominal heroes of these films (particularly in the prequels) is not neutral exactly a neutral proposition. What kinds of practices are we valorizing here?

According to the canon, the Jedi Order has existed for thousands of years, pre-dating the founding the Republic. Their Order was organized to resist the dark side Force-users among them, those of whom indulged in the covetous, erratic, and spiteful side of the divided pool of metaphysical power from which Force-sensitives draw their strength. Although this mission statement had very little to do with that of the Republic's, it did not stop the Jedi Order from moving its headquarters to Coruscant. There the Order set up shop as the Republic's religious enforcers, peacekeepers, and informal diplomats. The thousands of Padawans, Knights, and Masters, trained in lethal art of war and commanding powers that bordered on the magical, were governed only by a High Council composed of their eldest and more respected peers. How exactly the Republic governed the Jedi, assigned them to missions, or made them answerable to Republican lawmakers is largely unknown. From the films and shows that composed the _Star Wars_ canon, the best answer seems to be that the Jedi deferred to the Senate through a system of precedence, but this relationship appears only to be the practice of tradition. Which organization actually served the other is left ominously ambiguous.

Whatever the case, there is no denying that this arrangement resulted in a strange tension between the secular, democratic, and pluralist Republic and the orthodox, spiritual, and monastic Jedi Order that made both institutions particularly vulnerable to being pitted against one another. Though the Jedi repeatedly claim to be serving the Republic, it is clear from the films that the public was skeptical of their loyalty. This anxiety about the Jedi was easily exploited by Palpatine when he alleged that a Jedi coup had tried to overthrow the office of the Chancellor. Whose fault is that? I would image that the public had good reason to be nervous about the role of the Jedi in their government. It would be hard to blame these citizens for cheering on the demise of the aloof religious order of monks installed near their halls of governance by the duly constituted civil authorities - can you imagine a private parochial temple, closed to the public yet home to thousands of armed monks, answerable to no facet of government suddenly grafting itself on to the White House?

The troublesome organization of the Jedi Order is just the tip of the iceberg. The Jedi Code itself, the governing doctrine of the Jedi, created an unimaginative intellectual orthodoxy within the ranks of the Jedi, enforced by an internal government which punished heretics and compelled obedience. For example, Qui-Gon Jinn, a Jedi Master who charted his own course largely independently of the Jedi Council, was regarded by the elite as a Grey Jedi and had his name spoken in hushed whispers of exasperation. This is the same Qui-Gon that was a certified Jedi Master who took on an apprentice to pass down his Jedi knowledge, dutifully took on missions to handle trade disputes at the Order's request, gave his life to protect the Queen of Naboo whose welfare the Jedi Council had pledged to protect in the face of the Jedi Order's mortal enemy, the Sith. Sounds like a real heretic to me. Jinn's reputation betrays the extent to which the Jedi Order is rigidly conservative. There is no denying: the Jedi Order was fundamentalist, its Jedi Code absolute.

But perhaps most reprehensible of all, the Jedi Code demands that Jedi recruits begin their training at the Temple at a very young age. The audience of _Star Wars_ first learns of these age parameters in Episode VI, when an exiled Master Yoda tells Luke that he is too old to undergo Jedi training. This invocation of an age limit is of course just a manufactured obstacle for Luke to overcome - a task he fails to pass with much humility - for it would be insane of Yoda simply to elect not pass on his Jedi knowledge to the one person who might be able to overthrow Darth Vader and communicate it to future generations. Still, when we visit the Old Republic of the prequels, we see that Younglings and Padawans are, as Yoda alluded to on Dagobah, quite young indeed. How did they arrive at the Temple? It is insinuated both in the films and in other mediums that Force-sensitive children are brought to the Temple while they are extremely young so as to facilitate a lifetime of training and indoctrination, sometimes at an age when these Younglings could not possibly provide their consent. Moreover, if Anakin is any example, the Jedi Order does not afford many of its Younglings to often see their parents, if at all.

So the Jedi kidnap Force-sensitive children, indoctrinate them in an eternal war with the Sith and the Dark Side, and train them to be little more than child soldiers; and these are the _heroes_ in _Star Wars_?

Yet more than its problematic organization is the deeply disturbing theology of the Jedi. Animated by their theology of the Light Side of the Force, the Jedi seem to have declared war on their own humanity. Indeed, if there is one crystalline teaching offered from the six-going-on-seven films worth of Jedi teachings, idioms, and sayings from the _Star Wars_ universe, it is that the Jedi regard emotions as nothing but trouble. The Jedi clearly have learned to hold all emotion, feeling, and affectivity in contempt. The Jedi Code orders its adherents to feel no sympathy, remorse, pity, or compassion - for anyone, including themselves. Where does this antipathy for affectivity come from?

Of course, the mystical power the Jedi command have metaphysical antecedents on Earth. The Force in the _Star Wars_ universe clearly mixes elements of Eastern religions - the Force might be akin to Chinese notions of _qi,_ the Daoist's _dao,_ Buddhist _dharma,_ or even the Indian concept of _prana -_ while the Jedi Order itself embodies some elements of the western Judeo-Christian structures of organization and integration with the state. Common to all of these sources of inspiration is the subordination , if not dissolution, of the Self. And while I would be first in line (second only to David Hume) to suggest that the essential, innate, or cohesive Self is but a fiction, I am also careful not to deny my own embodied existence, an existence that is saturated with affectivity. To do so would only commit an act of violence on myself, a supreme act of existential alienation. Yet this denial is exactly what the Jedi Code mandates: that its adherents alienate themselves from their own bodies and their own emotions. In their rush to excise the dangerous feelings of the Dark Side, the Jedi end up throwing out the baby with the bath water. Selflessness, the eschewing of that idealized Self, then becomes an exercise in the oblivion of one's feelings. In this race to purge themselves of all affection, the Jedi annihilate their own humanity.

This is not a reading of the _Star Wars_ films or interpretation of Jedi teachings that requires a squinty-eyed highfalutin and theoretically speculative analysis in order to see. You don't need to look very hard to find it - instead, it makes up a central part of the _Star Wars_ cosmology. In Season Three, Episode 1 of _The Clone Wars_ , Jedi Master Shaak Ti explicitly states, "A Jedi does not feel concern." No two ways about it. If this is too tangential source material for you, try Yoda's response to an obviously distraught Anakin in _Revenge of the Sith_ : "Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose." Moreover, Yoda's famous refrain of "Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate, hate leads to suffering" is, like many Jedi-isms, laudable in a _prima facie_ way, especially when considering Asbury's contention that _Star Wars_ is for kids: Don't be angry, don't be fearful, and don't resort to violence. But what happens when Luke disobeys Yoda and strikes out to rescue his friends based on his affection for them in _The Empire Strikes Back_? "If you end your training now - if you choose the quick and easy path as Vader did - you will become an agent of evil," Yoda warns Luke. Luke ignores this advice. As a result, he gets his best buddy hauled off in carbonite, loses his hand, and goes to some very dark places. In _Return of the Jedi_ , we see a much more stoic Luke confronting his father, as if he's learned to suppress his feelings. The moral of the story is clear: feelings get you hurt.

Thus the morality of the Jedi compels its adherents to a bitter asceticism, the denial of one's own feelings for the illusion of the service towards some greater meaning. I'm sorry, but is that a desirable message for an audience of children? That this might not be a desirable message should be reason enough to agree that Jedi Code, insofar as it governs the conduct of the supposed heroes of _Star Wars_ , needs to be critically analyzed.

 **The Genealogy of (Jedi) Morality**

Enter Friedrich Nietzsche.

Nietzsche is hardly the only thinker who can be brought to bear on the troubling issues of the Jedi and their Order, but his consideration of the Christian disdain for embodiment, the annihilation of human affectivity, and ascetic ideal parallels my concerns with the Jedi. This insight comes primarily from Nietzsche's 1887 book _On the Genealogy of Morality,_ a genre-defying work of speculative history, philosophy, ethics, and poetics. I highly recommend it, but here is the relevant précis:

Nietzsche's critique in _Genealogy_ is split into three parts, each focusing on a specific aspect of the development and consequences of Christian morality. I do not intent to write a detailed summary of his argument or provide much of an exegesis here. For our purposes, we needn't get too specific about his argument in three acts; instead, I would like to focus primarily on the term "morality" itself, an idea which unifies all three of his treatises.

To properly understand what Nietzsche is up to in the _Genealogy,_ it is useful to make a distinction between what we commonly refer to as morality - constellations of ideas concerning what is right and wrong- and the morality that Nietzsche has in mind: a cluster of _answers_ to questions like "What are the qualities or traits of a good or virtuous person? What do I owe others? What is the ultimate point and value of human life?"(8) The emphasis on answers is my own, because it clarifies for me exactly what Nietzsche is arguing and how it is different from an ethics. Instead of asking an _ethical_ question such as, "What is the answer between right and wrong?", Nietzsche is far more interested in knowing - and castigating - individuals or groups who claim to have such authoritative answers at all.

It is absolutely critical to understand that in light of his use of morality as a technical term, Nietzsche's rejection of morality is not a license to steal, pillage, and kill. Here we might distinguish between a _morality_ and an _ethic._ For Nietzsche, ethics are naturalistic, nominal, and experiential; in other words, the values that ground ethics are made in the world of experience, not discovered or acquired by reference to supernatural power or any other _a priori_ source. Moralities, particularly religious moralities, are the opposite. Moralities are obstacles to be overcome towards a true humanism, training wheels that must be shed along the way if we are to grow into fully-fledged moral persons. Nietzsche's writing was thus intended to strike a blow for the cause of what he called "immoralism." Immoralism then is simply the rejection of a morality, not a wholesale abandonment of our concern for ethical conduct. Nietzsche is thus striving for a post-moral world, when human kind abandons prescriptions of behavior from institutions, religions, or Commandments. Instead of submitting to nihilistic moralities, we should strike out and decide what to do and how to think for ourselves.

Morality in this sense is not just a collection of moral rules; rather, it is also a pathology that results from suffering certain dominating commitments. But what does Nietzsche's depiction of morality have to do with the Jedi? For Nietzsche, the most dangerous component of Christian morality is its asceticism. Christian asceticism is a response to the world's perceptible meaninglessness, a reaction to a void of meaning in the world by creating meaning where there apparently is none. "That the ascetic ideal has meant so much to man, however, is an expression of the basic fact of the human will, its _horror vacui_ ; it needs a _goal_ , - it would rather will _nothingness_ that _not_ will," writes Nietzsche.(9)The discomfiture of a world without meaning Nietzsche regarded as _Weltschmerz,_ "an emotional state in which the predominant tone is a feeling of pain or sadness because of the inadequacy of the world" according to Clark.(9) This is not only the point of departure for Christian asceticism as a kind of escape, but it is also the catalyst for Luke Skywalker to become a Jedi. After his aunt and uncle are murdered by the Empire, Luke says with great melancholy, "There's nothing for me here now. I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi lime my father." The hero's journey - into the jaws of the morality of the Jedi - has begun.

We should pay particular attention to Nietzsche's claims regarding asceticism, for these are perhaps the most relevant aspect of his work in juxtaposition with _Star Wars_. In the Christian morality, asceticism takes its form in two theological practices: a denial of one's affectivity and the belief in life after death. Notably, the Jedi Code reenacts both of these tenants as well.

First, the ascetic suppresses their affectivity in an effort to transform what would otherwise be meaningless into something to serve a greater purpose. Like denying yourself dessert might make you feel a more virtuous dieter, so too does asceticism transform one's denial and self-suffering into an act of greater meaning; in the Christian context, denial of affectivity was the hallmark of purity or holiness. Look no further than the monkish tradition of chastity in the service of God as a scenario where one's suppression of affectivity serves a greater purpose. For the Jedi, this would be the feelings of the Dark Side; hate, anger, or passion that must be carved out of the Self like a cancer. This ascetic impulse leads the ascetic to deny not just trivial feelings but her feelings entirely: "An ascetic life is a self-contradiction: here a _ressentiment_ without equal rules, that...would like to become lord not over something living but rather over life itself, over its deepest, strongest, most fundamental preconditions," writes Nietzsche.(10)

For non-ascetic people, meaning might be found in the embrace of pleasurable, creative, and constructive experience. Emotional satisfaction, a job well done, a service rendered, a duty fulfilled, an accomplishment - these are sufficient for creating contingent meaning in life. But for the ascetic, these things are mere trifles, causes for distraction. Therefore, the ascetic turns these affections into sin. By treating them as sinful and then refraining from feelings, emotions, and sensation, the ascetic transforms these human tendencies into something to be triumphed over. "Whereas pleasure is felt and _sought_ in deformation, atrophy, in pain, in accident, in the ugly, in voluntary forfeit, in unselfing, self-flagellation, self sacrifice.," observes Nietzsche. "This is all paradoxical in the highest degree: we stand here before a conflict that _wants_ itself to be conflicted, that _enjoys_ itself in this suffering and even becomes ever more self-assured and triumphant to the extent that its own presupposition, physiological viability, _decreases."_ (11) Thus, the ascetic manufactures meaning out of thin air by trying to assert her will to power over her own self, for "any meaning is better than no meaning at all."(13)

Second, in their obsessive focus on life beyond this one, Nietzsche criticizes the ascetic for their embrace of nihilism. Life in the present is to be treated only as a stepping-stone to a more transcendent plane after death. The ascetic "relates our life (together with that to which it belongs: "nature," "world," the entire sphere of becoming and of transitoriness) to an entirely different kind of existence, which it opposes and excludes, _unless,_ perhaps, it were to turn against itself, _to negate itself:_ in this case, the case of an ascetic life, life is held to be a bridge for that other existence," bemoans Nietzsche. "The ascetic priest is the incarnate wish for a different existence, an existence somewhere else, and in fact the highest degree of this wish, its true fervor and passion."(14) If this world we find ourselves living in is only a cheap, meaningless, and transitory on, the ascetic yearns to be released for its bonds - this was the condition of the Christian ascetics according to Nietzsche. It also seems to be the case for the Jedi, who seem to bank on the idea that they will rejoin the Force when they die.

For the Jedi then, the existence of the Light side of the Force is the altar upon which they deny their affectivity and embrace their nihilism. The Force provides the central meaning of not just a Jedi's life, but all lives. It provides them with direction, destinies, fate. "Your destiny," Obi-Wan tells Luke, "lays on a different path than mine." It flows through you; it partially commands your actions. "The Force will be with you, always."It makes events occur for a reason. It is cosmic therapy.

The ascetic depiction of the Force through the Jedi Code is thus the solution to the feeling "that something _was lacking,_ that an enormous _void_ surrounded human - he did not know how to justify, to explain, to affirm himself; he _suffered_ from the problem of meaning."(15) Here is the intersection of asceticism and morality. Morality itself is, as Clark argues, "an ascetic interpretation of ethical life."(15) In this way, Jedi morality of letting go of your feelings, absolving your commitments to others, and surrendering all possessiveness as a means to be one with the Force negates, denies, and suppresses more humane possibilities for the conduct of its followers.

Therefore, I wish to subject the Jedi Order and the Jedi Code as it is articulated in _The_ _Jedi Path_ to a similar critique as that which Friedrich Nietzsche makes of Christian morality in his Genealogy _of Morality._ Nietzsche was clear what he thought the alternative to asceticism was: animated by one's recognition of their finitude, Nietzsche's vision for an immoral human life was a vivid and fully immersive personhood, an opting-in to experience what all the world 's affectivity had to offer. "To free the human soul from all its moorings for once, to immerse it in terrors, frosts, blazes, and ecstasies in such a way that it is freed from everything that is small and small-minded in listlessness, dullness, being out of sorts as if by a bolt of lightning: which paths lead to _this_ goal?" he mused. (11) Certainly not the Jedi Path.

Does Nietzsche's critique work for the Jedi, who, as it is heavily suggested in the _Star Wars_ universe, do seem to rejoin the Force in some life after death? Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan both accomplish this, not to mention the appearance of Yoda and Anakin's ghosts to before Luke. As a grizzled Han Solo tells an incredulous looking Finn and Rey, "It's true. All of it. The Dark Side. The Jedi. They're real." This could be a fatal flaw for trying adapt Nietzsche's argument to _Star Wars:_ the Jedi really _do_ live on after death! But as Yoda reminds Luke on Dagobah during his Jedi indoctrination, "Luminous beings are we, not this crude matter," pinching Luke's flesh. Regardless of their actual attainment of life after death, the dualism between the transcendent and the temporal, the eternal and the finite, the spirit and the material is an ascetic hallmark ever-present in the _Star Wars_ films. The Jedi, eternal though they may actually be in some regard, are then still ripe for Nietzsche's critique, in both style and substance.

 **A Note on Style**

As I am seeking to emulate Nietzsche's argument, I have tried to adopt the style of his _Genealogy_. Regarded as a literary scholar, it took the world some time to recognize that Nietzsche was a first-rate philosopher. This is because Nietzsche writing is highly literary and eschewed the conventions of philosophy of his day. _Genealogy_ is no exception; it is written in a highly literary style, divided into three treatises composed of numerous aphorisms. I have attempted to parrot this style in a narrative, dividing scenes and their import into discrete chunks and throwing in a small dash of breaking-the-fourth-wall as Nietzsche did to speak directly to his readers. Of course, I am departing from Nietzsche in writing a narrative, a story of fanfiction, to couch my critique of the Jedi instead of a dry, formal, and academic treatment. For that is why we all love Stars Wars, after all: it's a good story. And while I am not confident that this style will be as conducive a vehicle for my narrative ruminations as it was for Nietzsche, it was a fun and useful experiment for me; I hope it reads similarly to you.

In writing this story, I tried to restrict myself to drawing upon materials, characters, and events explicit to the new Disney-Lucasfilm defined canon. As such, I lean heavily on the chronology, characters, and events of two animated shows, Dave Filoni's _The Clone Wars_ and _Rebels_. However, restricting myself to the medium of the screen was impossible, I indulged in print only in the close reading of Chronicle Books' 2013 _The Jedi Path_ and the _Book of the Sith_. These works are truly wonderful examples of epistolary fiction, and contain the annotations of many Jedi and Sith characters in their margins that deliver on the task of world building in the _Star Wars_ universe. Unfortunately, Disney-Lucasfilm have declared these books to be heretical - they have now been labeled "Legends" - and have been excised from the canon. As such, I have cited them in the most tentative ways possible, yet _The Jedi Path_ and the _Book of the Sith_ are so rich in their explicit codification of the theology, metaphysics, and politics of the Light and Dark Side of the Force that they cannot be ignored by any serious student of the _Star Wars_ universe.(17)

Our protagonist in this narrative critique is Faetosa Rei ("Fay-TOE-sah Ray"), a young Pantoran woman. Blue-skinned with yellow accents to demark kinship status, Pantorans are a species of sentient humanoids that appear in the peripheries of the prequel films and _The Clone Wars_ hailing from the eponymous moon of Orto Plutonia. I thought it important to be guided through the critique by a non-human in order to decouple Nietzsche notions of humanity with actual humans - Corellians, Aleranaanians, or Lothalites, by example. In this way, _On The Morality of the Jedi_ strives to the science-fictionalization of Nietzsche's _Genealogy_ , a critique that sidesteps racial or species pluralism to focus on the "humanity" of sentient people.

In other words, I believe Nietzsche's critique is equally applicable to a human person immersed in a Christian morality as it is a Pantoran indoctrinated in the Jedi Code. This telegraphing is provocative, for it transfers Nietzsche's concern for the existential health of humanity away human's finitude, and lights upon the foundations of sentience or personhood. There is a great deal assumed in this move. To put this in the form a question, would Nietzsche's critique of Christian or Jedi morality be substantially different if we were talking about say, Wookies, who live for upwards of several hundreds of years? Though I cannot answer that question here, it is a compelling exploration for future study.(18)

Sharing _On The Morality of the Jedi_ prior to the release of Episode VII is fortuitous, for a central function of this story is to raise the stakes of Luke's decision to resurrect (or not) a new Reformed Jedi Order. In the EU, Luke founds a new Jedi Academy on Yavin (specifically, the Jedi praxeum ship _Chu'unthor_ , now similarly axed from the canon) and does away with the more monkish trappings of the old Jedi Order: his students are not compelled to wear uniform robes, they are not taken from their families at such a young age and, thematically critically, marriage becomes an acceptable practice for Jedi Knights. Of course, this liberalizing turn - Jedi Vatican II, anyone? - has been erased with the rest of the EU, so the sky is the limit for Abrams and Kasdan and Kennedy's new Luke Skywalker. I hope then that _On The Morality of the Jedi_ sets the stage for us fans in focusing our particular attention on the way Episode VII handles the legacy and theology of the Jedi Order. We deserve a better class of heroes than the Jedi of the prequels, a new generation of Jedi who will eschew all the life-denying parts of the Jedi morality - its orthodoxy and absolutes and asceticism - and embrace the virtues of non-Force-adepts like and Han, Chewie, or even R2-D2: courage, audacity, and loyalty.

Finally, in light of this critique, should the Jedi be considered the real villains of _Star Wars_? I don't think so. The Jedi lay claim to a set of wholesome practices and values; a commitment to peacekeeping, helping others, and living for causes beyond your own interests. "Take care of yourself," Luke tells Han on the eve of the assault on the Death Star, "I guess that's what your best at, isn't it?" Selflessness, in so far as it is depicted in _Star Wars_ as a tendency toward sympathy, empathy, service, altruism, or compassion is a wonderful ethical message for audiences of all ages. But selflessness as a metaphysical suppression of the Self and its attendant affectivity as the Jedi do is nothing more than asceticism at its worse.

One final thought. The extent of these considerations - the metaphysics of the Force, the theology of the Jedi, gender politics and embodiment, etc - might strike some fans or skeptics as ridiculous, but that's the thing: as an adult, I can't help but bring with me adult concerns to these films and shows, concerns that I feel they ought to address, not just for my sake, but for everyone's sake. If _Star Wars_ is really intended for kids, we ought to think even more carefully about what these stories convey. It's one thing to make a film the valorizes as heroes space wizards whose training excises their pity, remorse, or empathy - in other words, their humanity - if you anticipate your film will be watched by those with the ability to discern why this might be problematic. But kids? I'm not so sure they have that capacity.

 _Star Wars_ is much like modern myth. It re-articulates the hero's journey for a new generation. That's powerful stuff. But if it is a modern myth, we must admit that kids listen to _Star Wars_ , as I know I did. Like Stephen Sondheim warns in _Into the Woods_ , "Careful the spell you cast/Not just on children/Sometimes a spell may last/Past what you can see." Indeed, the day people stop cosplaying as Jedi, brandishing tubular lightsabers, and casting Jedi Mind Tricks on their friends is the day we don't have to worry about this anymore.(19) But until that day comes, we should think critically about the imprint of _Star Wars_ films upon our imaginations, regardless of how grown-up we may have become, because that is _Star Wars'_ true Force: making us feel like kids again.

Note: The ten chapters that constitute this work will be serially published every week until the release of Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens on December 18, 2015. You can also find this work on Wattpad at story/53025110-on-the-morality-of-the-jedi. While I do not claim any rights to characters, properties, or trademarks belonging to Disney or Lucasfilm or their respective owners, I maintain any and all claims to my original work herein.

Endnotes:

1) See: Darths and Droids by the Comic Irregulars.

2) See: Webstoons "Star Wars" by Hong Jacqa.

3) See: Short film "Summer of 78'".

4) See: Absolutely No Machete Juggling: Introducing the Machete Cut by Rod Hilton.

5) Bret D. Asbury, "Don't Give in to Hate: How a child of the original _Star Wars_ trilogy learned to love the prequels - and why we should all look forward to Episode VII" Slate (2012). Accessed October 25, 2015. articles/arts/culturebox/2012/11/star_wars_episode_vii_the_lucasfilm_disney_is_a_good_thing_for_the_

6) Germain Lussier, "We're Facing _Star Wars_ Overload, And it Scares the Crap Out of Me." (2015). Accessed October 25, 2015. /were-facing-star-wars-overload-and-it-scares-the-crap-1722202632

7) For an excellent primer on some of these issues in philosophical contexts, see Jason T. Eberl and William Irwin, _Star Wars and Philosophy: More Powerful than You Can Possibly Imagine._ Chicago: Open Court, 2005.

8) Maudemarie Clark, introduction to _On the Genealogy of Morality,_ by Friedrich Nietzsche (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1998), xxvi.

9) Friedrich Nietzsche, _On the Genealogy of Morality,_ trans. Maudemarie Clark and Alan J. Swensen (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1998), 67.

10) Ibid, 94.

11) Ibid, 83.

12) Ibid, 84.

13) Nietzsche, _On the Genealogy of Morality_ , 117.

14) Ibid, 83-86.

15) Ibid, 117.

16) Maudemarie Clark, introduction to _On the Genealogy of Morality,_ by Friedrich Nietzsche (Indianapolis: Hackett Publishing Company, 1998), xxiii.

17) _The Book of the Sith_ offers what I believe is the most plausible, reasonable, and least-offensive explanation and treatment of medichlorians that almost makes their existence in the canon palatable. Nevertheless, there will be no mention of medichlorians in _The Morality of the Jedi._

18) By way of preliminary hypothesis, Wookies, though graced by their biology with long life, are still mortal; thus my reading of Nietzsche and the terror of the eternal return seems equally applicable to a human who can live a century and a Wookie who can live for four. Still, I hope someone will soon write _Thus Spake Chewbacca_ and settle the question once and for all.

19) Let us hope this day never comes.


	2. Prologue: Profession

Profession

The declaration of belief in or acceptance of a religion and its morality.

 _"_ _Jedi are the guardians of peace in the galaxy._

 _Jedi use their powers to defend and protect, never to attack others._

 _Jedi respect all life, in any form._

 _Jedi serve others rather than ruling over them, for the good of the galaxy._

 _Jedi seek to improve themselves through knowledge and training."_ -A reading of the Jedi Code

 _"_ _These Jedi are a curious cult."_ -Kamino Prime Minister Lama Su, _The Clone Wars: "Conspiracy"_

 _"_ _Within the Republic, the Jedi Order has the legal authority to take custody of Force-sensitives, and some Master shave argued that the Force's presence in a child indicates the child's consent to join the Order even before he or she is able to speak."_ -Morrit Ch'gally, Jedi Recruiter, _The Jedi Path_

 _"_ _The Jedi are extinct, their fire has gone out of the universe. You, my friend, are all that is left of their religion."_ -Grand Moff Tarkin to Darth Vader, _A New Hope_

1

This is the story of a girl who lived a long time ago in a galaxy, far, far away. Her story begins in a small plain room, inside a vast building with many spires, on a planet upon which has never before walked. She is far from home, without money, companionship, or return passage. Now, she waits for a strange man whom she does not know. Her head is bowed, her eyes closed. She sits anxiously, for she is alone in a place real only in legend. Like so many children before her, she has come here to embark upon a new life.

2

The door to the room opens and a robed man enters. A human man, he stands tall with a calm stature. Authority pervades his being. Instantly, the girl takes to her feet. "Please, sit," says the man in return. The girl flinches as if her small frame was offending, and she does as she is told. The man gently lowers himself on a pedestal across from the girl, crosses his legs, and smiles with sigh, looking the girl over. She is short, the coils of pinkish hair reaching only the man's shoulders. An thin angel braid separated this tightly woven halo from her forehead, on one side of which her hair grew moss-like and tangled and yet was sharp and pointed like a palm frond hanging over her features on the other. While her appearance is otherwise shabby and slightly disheveled, her hair is immaculately configured. Her limbs seem out of proportion to the rest of her body; where her legs are long and somewhat spindly, her frame is like a tired square which left her arms dangling their gloved hands well past her waist. A mismatched red sash is bound around her for all this, she carries herself with a silent kind of poise of her own making, the bearing of someone who has survived a tiring ordeal. He leans towards the bowed girl before him. "Child, the Temple Watch says they found you on the front steps this morning," he says. "Where are you from?," the man inquires.

3

The girl does not answer. "From the city?," the man tries. Silence. "The lower levels, then?" The girl is obviously listening but she says nothing. The man smiles and sits up. "What brings you to the Temple?" The girl looks down again. What brings everyone to Temple?, she thinks. She takes a deep breath, and without facing the man, determinedly utters what she has prepared for months to come here in order to say: "I wish to become a Jedi."

4

The man is saddened. How many times now had he witnessed just this scene? And how many of these lost children had he been forced to turn away? It gave him no pleasure to send nearly all the hungry and desperate children who arrived at the Temple back into the swirling chaos of Coruscant. Yet rarely did these Force-inert children have what it takes to become Jedi Initiates. All too often, they simply desired food and a warm bed for the night and, upon receiving such small generosities, would give up their delusions of grandeur the following morning, departing quietly during the day. Turning these children away was just a small part of his task as Head of the Temple Watch, a role which served at the pleasure of the Council, and so he did his duty. The Temple was no orphanage.

5

"Ah, so you wish to become a Jedi? I see," says the man, trying to act surprised. The girl sits earnestly, but attempts to disguise her enthusiasm. "Yes, I wish to be a Jedi...like you," she tells the man, her voice projecting courage but cracking under the weight of addressing a member of such an august Order. "By the looks of it, you are one of the Pantoran people, are you not?" returns the man. At this, the girl finally looks up. After so much around her that is foreign, the name of her home planet awakes a new life inside her. She opens her eyes. "Yes," she says quietly. Suddenly, the man feels a slight tremor in the Force. The Jedi is almost taken aback but what he sees, but he does not show it. This girl is blind.

6

The man stares contemplatively at what this girl will never see, not even in a mirror. Her eyes appear like two lakes frozen in time. Concealed by a placid surface, the man senses they hide deep currents below. He looks away. Had he really felt a reverberation in the Force?

7

The man gestures towards the girl with an open palm. "So, you are a Pantoran child who has come all the way here from your home planet on your own," the man says. "That is quite the journey." The girl is silent, yet the Head of the Temple Watch swore that the girl had fleetingly glanced at his belt and the lightsaber that hung there. The man crosses his arms. "Before we can discuss how we accept Initiates into the Order, I must ask you some questions." With this formality out of the way, the Jedi would inescapably send her on her way. But the man wished to be gentle in his inevitable rejection: "Would that be alright with you?," he adds generously. The girl nods. The man prepares to interrogate the girl with the questions he always asks of such children, but with his curiosity piqued by the girl's lack of sight, the man first asks: "But first, tell me, child; how did you lose your sight?"

8

That day, the girl had come to watch her father finish his work. They had stood on the cusp of a hill overlooking the city below, standing in silence. It was after a season's worth of effort that her father and his foremen would complete their contract from the Republic. They had hired him to build a fortification for which to house a massive munitions depot on Pantora. It was the largest building the engineer had ever designed and the entire city had come to cheer on his triumph as a feat for which all Pantorans could be proud. "After all, this depot may not look it," the girl's father had explained, pointing at the construction site below, "but it will allow the Republic fleet to refuel and resupply from our home, which will bring our friends in the Republic ever closer in alliance," her father had said raucously. "Now that is something to celebrate!"

9

The girl had looked at her father inquisitively, but was silent. After a moment, her father laughed and put his hand atop her head. "With this base complete, you will have nothing to fear. You father and his men did their work well. The Republic will be here to protect you for years to come." The girl was visibily relieved, yet remained melancholy. Then, she scrunched up her face and whispered, "I wish mother was here today. She'd be proud of you." Her father looked down, pleased to hear the sound of her voice quiet though it was. "Me too. In fact, I have something for you. A gift of your mother's to remember your fourteenth birthday." The girl held out her hands. There her father placed a necklace with a violet gem suspended on a golden string. "At the top of your class at school, you're the most introspective, empathetic, and naturally curious young woman I have ever met. Just like your mother. This was hers. Go ahead, you've earned it." The girl beamed and took the necklace. Her father returned her warmth.

10

"Come, let's go join the celebrations. The dignitaries from the Republic will be here soon!" exclaimed her father, leading her forwards. But she had pulled her arm away and held the necklace to her chest. Her father had looked at her skeptically, and then smiled. "You'd like to wait here a moment, is that right?" The girl looked at her feet, nodding sheepishly. "Then wait as long as you'd like," he replied gently, kissing her forehead. He made to leave, but looked back as if he had just experienced a flash of insight, eyes twinkling. "Someday, my daughter, you'll have to find your voice so that you might speak your mind." The girl looked up uncertainly. Her father winked. "Now, if you'll excuse me," he had said with a flourish, "I've got to go to the ceremony; your father is a very important man, after all!" The girl reached out her hand to clasp his in gratitude, but her father had started down the hill, friends from afar waving after him.

11

The girl had sat on the hill overlooking the city, the wind playing with her hair. It was when the snow danced in flurries in the air that she most loved her blue planet home; each flake resembled a tiny star swimming in the night sky. She put out her hand into this swirling airborne galaxy. Her thoughts dewelled on her mother. Suddenly, the wind increased and the snowflakes were shorn away as a long shadow appeared, moving quickly over the ground. The girl looked up. With a rumble, a huge Republic ship descended out of the clouds.

12

The Grand Army of the Republic, the guarantor of her perpetual peace, had arrived. The crowd assembled for the dedication ceremony cheered as ranks of soldiers of the Grand Army paraded out of the belly of the ship, several important-looking dignitaries in their wake. The long files of white armored soliders blended with the snowy surface of Pantora and they snaked their way through the tall arched gate and into the facility. Placing the gem around her neck, the girl descended to find her father as hundreds streamed from the city into the grounds.

13

The explosion, when it came, was like swirling maelstrom of fire and pure energy that vaporized nearly everyone who had assembled around the heart of the facility to listen to the speeches of friendship and goodwill. The girl had been running toward the gathering, straining to see her father as he was about to speak, when the fuel tanks loaded with their hyper-energetic contents had detonated. The light of the blast, like a star erupting with primal fury, had poured into the girl's searching eyes. Her world disappeared in a torrent of radiance, and then plunged into darkness.

14

The girl felt a searing wave of heat pass over her like an avalanche, and she was lifted into the air and thrown clear of the blast. Pantoran cvilians, dignitaries, and Republican soldiers alike were there one moment and gone the next. This had been followed by shattered wreckage, the blaring of sirens, the ringing of screams. Soldiers in white running. The wind no longer carried snowflakes, but was instead thick and hot and choked with black smoke and ash. The girl had slipped into nothingness.

15

When the girl had awoken several days later, at first there was nothing but pain. This was followed by confusion. She opened her eyes repeatedly but could see nothing. The dark veil of her sleep could not be rolled back. She tried again, blinking hard. Blackness. She squeezed her eyes tight again and then opened them widely. Nothing but darkness, nothing but blindness. Even if she could have seen, her vision would have been clouded by the tears now welling thickly in her eyes. The girl had escaped the deadly explosion's blast, but had trapped her inside the darkness of her own head. She would never see her father again, even if he had survived. She screamed, and tore at her face. She had been cursed.

16

"The Separatists took from me my father and my sight that day," says the girl with steely resolve. "A remote bomb, smuggled into during construction." The Jedi looks on with a still face. He feels pity for the girl, who had lost her vision as the result of an otherwise inconsequential Separatist attack in the grand scheme of the Clone War. Still, he banishes the thought. Ther was no utility in such feelings. She had been collateral damage, nothing more. "I want justice. That is why," says the girl, her voice dropping to a whisper, "I wish to become a Jedi."

17

The Head of the Temple Watch simply sits and contemplates the girl's story. She is still. The Jedi closes his eyes. "I sense that you have strong emotions as a result of your...condition," he pauses. "And I must remind you that revenge is not the way of the Jedi. But what I sense in you is not hatred or vengeance. There is...something else." The girl stiffens slightly as the man gestures with his hand over her head. "Where I expect to feel cold hatred and anger in you, I sense instead...warmth," says the Jedi. The girl shivered. Can we imagine that this young girl, all alone, could have been prepared to have the feelings inside her searched by this strange man? The Jedi cocks his head slightly. "Child, why are you _really_ here?" The girl raises her head and looks the Jedi directly in the eye. He is taken aback.

18

It had been days since the explosion. Surrounded by darkness, the girl had felt like she was drowning in a lake after nightfall. Unable to see, she could only lay motionless in a foriegn bed, too tormented by pain to move. She had no strength to eat and was in too much pain to sleep. She wanted to die, to go off into the never-ending night, to find a place to dissolve. And she would have been devoured by the pressing shadow if not for the calloused hand that had reached out from the blackness to grasp hers. It was the only sensation that tethered her to reality.

19

For days, this hand held hers. It grapsed her during the initial chaos after the blast, during her transportation to the hospital, during the painful surgeries that followed. The girl focused through her nearly overwhelming pain on this one charitable offering. This hand, tender but strong, attached to some body not her own, became the center of her world. It was real. It was all she had linking her to the world outside the inky blackness of her blindness. The days blended together in a haze; night and day looked the same. When she would awake to various sounds and smells, the girl would squeeze the hand in hers to ensure she was not still in a dream. Sometimes during these early days, she would awake and find that her hand was empty, and she panicked. How unsettling this was! Lifeline gone, she was drifting. The girl felt herself reaching out into space, searching, whimpering. A murmur at her bedside followed by a shuffle would bring the hand back into hers. This routine was repeated until one this ritual was followed by a faint but strong voice: "Be still. Do not speak. But do not worry. I will not leave you." The hand clenched hers tightly. A tear broke away from the girl's sightless eyes, and she squeezed her hand in gratefulness.

20

The girl did not recall how many weeks she lingered in that hospital. But this long stay was not due to an injury; rather, it was the unexpected affection that she had found there. The void in her heart where her adoring father had once occupied, torn asunder by the explosion, had been unexpectedly filled by a new love. After teetering on the edge of darkness, the hand that had stayed her own began to speak. There came a deep voice, filled with compassion and generosity, tinged with admiration. "You have incredible strength, you know. Together, we're going to make you better." The girl, bedridden, took in this voice and all it had to say eagerly, as one who is dying of thirst is slaked by water. In this way, the patient and caretaker sat and talked for many hours - the girl could not tell day or night, but what did such distinctions matter now? - and traded many memories from their past. Sharing her stories of her mother and father brought comfort to the girl, and her companion listened attentively. Many days of conversation and soft laughter later, the tenebrous voice declared: "I want to tell you something." Their hands met. "My name is Ty. And I've been keeping this safe for you." Into her hands was placed a small gemstone necklace, and the girl smiled.

21

On her day of discharge, the girl was filled with trepidation. Re-learning to use her hands, to feed herself, to sit up all without benefit of her vision had been challenging enough. How was she supposed to get up and leave the hospital? She did not speak all morning, fearing that her words would only hasten her departure. Ty the medic had brought the girl a walking stick. Taking her hand, Ty spoke with concern. "What can I do to help you get home?" Overwhelmed at this compassion, the girl choked back a sob. "I have no home." Ty helped the girl hobble out of the ward like a newborn on unsteady legs. By the time the pair had reached the threshold of the hospital, they both had realized that the girl could not make the trip on her own. The girl dropped her staff and sank to the ground, defeated by the prospect of negotiating the world without her sight. "What? What is it?" Ty asked quickly, eager to assist. But the girl's voice was caught in her throat. She could not ask what her heart truly desired - it was too much. Then, for the first time since the explosion, her father's visage appeared in her mind. Ty's strong hands were quick to follow, and the girl impulsively pulled them close. "Ty, I want...I need you to come with me."

22

Aside from several long stares from the more conservative medical practitioners, Ty's transfer from the hospital to home care had been straightforward. When Ty and the girl had first arrived at the house, they were greeted by darkness and stale air. The walls seemed to echo the faint mirth of the engineer, the peals of laughter from long ago haunting the house. First, Ty had helped the girl explore each room of her small house with her hands, re-learning for the first time what she had always known. The girl stumbled and tripped at first, but with the aid of the walls and her patient caretaker, the house began to become more familiar. When the girl had come to a closed door and stopped in her tracks, they stopped. Ty waited. The next day, together, they entered the bedroom and cleared away the possessions of the girl's lost father, and the husks of bad memories were cleared away. When the job was done, the girl had smiled at Ty, saying nothing.

23

New seeds of affection were soon planted. After respectfully removing all but a few of the items from the chamber, Ty prepared the room for mediation. "The body and mind are partners in recuperation," Ty had told the girl. "We will exercise them both to get you back to your former self, yes?" Ty helped the girl lower herself on to a cushion and then sat beside her. The room was silent. "Concentrate on your breathing," Ty had said. "And rest your eyes." Following the directions of her caregiver, the girl took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She allowed her mind to wander, to feel the room around her. Ty had smiled quietly as the girl relaxed. In that room, they had found peace.

24

But after many weeks of regular mediation, the girl began to find more than just peace; each sitting exposed her to a strange kind of light. Things began to change. While she could not see with her eyes, a new kind of sight slowly began to emerge. Like an imprint of the world, she could sense the dimensions of the room, each object within it, and even feel the shafts of sunlight streaming in from the windows that fell on the ground before her. The girl's blindness, until now a curtain of complete darkness, began to bend and refract. At first, she dared not believe any alteration had occurred. Certainly she was just imagining things. But weeks later, when she came to feel and perceive even shades and shadows, she had to admit that something indeed had changed within her. She could not see the world, but she was beginning to feel it.

25

After months of excitement for the return of her vision, the girl spent much of her time in her father's former room, trying to hone her new perception. She was drawn to the room, as if it resonated a kind of power. In fact, when Ty would leave their shared mediation to prepare food for the evening, the girl would stay on her cushion and take up her repose, eager to feel connected to this new power and the extraordinary senses it seemed to grant. Yet during these sessions, when she was alone, the girl felt weaker, cut off from the special resonance in the room; her new sight seemed dimmer, blurry. When Ty sometimes joined her, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder, this sense was regained, its clarity amplified. While she did not report this new discovery to Ty just yet, she found herself overcome with redoubled gratitude and fondness for her caregiver.

26

Then, one day, it had happened. When Ty had returned to the house from the market, the girl could sense with her new perceptions that Ty was in turmoil. She could feel it. She found Ty in what had been her father's room, upset. "It's nothing," Ty had said. "The women at the market were whispering about me behind my back. They said our arrangement here was...unusual," Ty had said, sounding defeated. The girl took up her place on her cushion, defiant. "Ty, don't listen to what others might say about you and I," the girl had said defensively, speaking for the first time in weeks. "That I have feelings for you should be enough." There was silence for a moment, and then Ty spoke quietly. "What kind of feelings?" The girl was suddenly and unexpectedly overwhelmed with fondness for Ty and a burning sensation came over her. She found her pulse dancing. The words came without thought. "That I love you," she had blurted out, and put her hand in Ty's. Before the girl had a chance to second guess her admission, Ty had leaned toward the girl and replied: "And I love you too." They had embraced with a passionate kiss. Even though they were sightless, the girl felt her eyes instinctively close, and with that gesture, the world finally seemed to come into focus.

27

Then, the girl's eyes widened, not out of sight but out of habit. Instead of having her vision restored, the girl felt the energy of the room as if she could see it. She could make out silhouettes and shapes, but she could perceive further than her regular vision had ever allowed. Instead, she could see things she had never seen before. Soft tendrils of energy flowing from one object to another, like trails of smoke, bound everything together. She saw thick tendrils even linking her to Ty. Were these flowing rivers of energy their love made visible? Then, the girl was astonished to realize something else - she could see Ty for the first time. The girl let out a sound and recoiled.

28

The two young women stared at one another, both shocked and rather confused. Ty looked down. The girl put her hand to her mouth. What had they just done? "But I thought you knew?," Ty said, wounded. Confused, the girl became dizzy. She was silent. Ty sprang to her feet. "The women in town were right," Ty had said quickly. "This is wrong. I had better leave." Instantly, a new feeling burst forth, and the girl instinctively grasped Ty's arm. "Wait," the girl said. "Don't go."

29

What tumult the girl felt! Everything that that she had learned from her childhood told her that what she had done with Ty was wrong. Her experience of loving another woman was without precedent, for even when she had use of her eyesight, she had never seen such a sight as two Pantoran women in love. We may think this perhaps attributable to Pantoran provincialism, but consider: so too it is for all of us! That which we see around us as we grow from children dictates the limits of the horizon of our own imaginations for what is possible. And while the girl was still uneasy about her strong feelings for Ty, she began to see that this anxiety was the handiwork of Pantoran tradition, a hand that had reached into her own heart and had been playing puppet-master for as long as she could remember. Her mind raced while Ty stood, unconvinced. The girl beckoned her to sit. "Since I lost my father, you have always been there for me, Ty. If I had met you a day before I did, when I had my sight," the girl had said, searching her own feelings, "I think I never would have been able truly seen you as I do now." Ty had listened through her own tears. "I would have turned away. I would have thought that I could see perfectly, when really I would have been blind." The girl continued, taking up Ty's hand in hers. "And I see now that...I do love you." Ty had let out a cry; the grip of custom had unclenched in both their hearts and in this affirmation the two Pantoran women embraced one another.

30

The air in the Temple room is very still. The Jedi raises his brow. "If I am to help you, you must tell me why are you really here." The girl pauses, and then speaks slowly. "I have a kinswoman, a fellow Pantoran and a...friend, who has come to the Temple to be trained as a Jedi Padawan." The Head of the Temple Watch puts his palms on his knees. "And so this is why you wish to become a Jedi as well? Because of this...friend of yours?" The girl looks at the Jedi. "Yes," she says defiantly. "I wish to fight at her side." The Head of the Temple Watch looks inquisitively at the girl. "It seems your motivation to join the Order is a noble, but mistaken one. As Jedi, we strive to release ourselves from our attachments to others while retaining our compassion for them." The girl tilts her head slightly, as if contemplating. "Be that as it may, in this case, I am afraid it is the Order that is mistaken," she mutters, as if against her own better judgment. Now the Jedi speaks defiantly. "And how is that, exactly?"

31

Ty and the girl lived together happily for many months. They cherished one another as winter withered became spring, and spring became summer. The girl was overjoyed that despite her original plans to depart at the change of the season, Ty was now content to stay indefinitely. But the arrival on Pantora of two Jedi and their soldiers had changed everything.

32

Despite the destruction of the supply base designed and built by her father, the Republic still had considered Pantora to be an allied system. Since the explosion, Republic technicians had been hard at work repairing her father's facility. Thus it was that when word came of trouble on neighboring Orto Plutonia, it was no surprise that the Republic would respond. But the girl and Ty, very much preoccupied in their passion for one another, were taken by surprise when a Republican gunship came out of the sky and into the heart of their city. Onboard was Pantora Chairman Chi Cho, Senator Riyo Chuchi, and two cloaked men in tow.

33

The city had become a staging ground for the expedition to Orto Plutonia. Prompted by the commotion, the two young women had ventured down to the city center. It had been the first time in many months that the girl had left her house to venture into public. And while Ty described the scene to the girl, she couldn't help but smile - with her new found sensory perception, she could _feel_ the sight before her in as vivid detail as Ty's description: cheering Pantorans, the Chairman and the Senator, and soldiers all. But most unusual were the two cloaked men, who the girl felt were glowing, long tendrils of light seeming to connect them to the fabric of the scene around them. Before long, the two leading Pantoran politicians and their two cloaked escorts had climbed into their transports and blasted off into to the sky. The two women had made for their home, but Ty had noticed a field hospital being set up on the parade ground. She inquired; a medical droid had notified her that the facility was intended for the Republic's soldiers - or at least those that returned.

34

Several days later, the return of the expedition was heralded by the tell-tale sound of the Republic gunships whirring through the cold air. Yells carried by the wind from the parade ground and the field hospital caught the attention of Ty, who was working in the kitchen. Without thinking, she tore out of the house to help. The girl had called after her, but it was no use; Ty was at the field hospital in an instant. She had flashed her medical credentials and quickly set out to help the overwhelmed medical droids with expedition's injured soldiers. The girl arrived to see the cloaked figures and Senator Chuchi watching Ty as she rushed about to tend to the wounded men.

35

The girl rushed to Ty's side to help. Amid the tumult of the field hospital, her perception of the world was shaken, and she focused intently on Ty's confident and reassuring presence. She had felt Ty's determination, her strong desire to heal the wounded soldiers, and the world solidified. In that moment, the bond between the girl and Ty had felt incredibly strong, and the girl was taken aback to see Ty glow momentarily in the same fashion that the two hooded figures had themselves. Was she the cause of this new light? Ty, had she known, would not have had time to contemplate such things; she was engaged in cutting off a clone soldier's armor to dress his wound when one of the two cloaked men approached. Despite the man's shining halo of light, the girl had perceived a dusty beard that hung on a kindly but tired face.

36

The man smiled slightly. "You are an excellent healer. I thank you. The Republic thanks you. And the Jedi thank you as well." The girl let out a small gasp. A Jedi, on Pantora? She had heard of the Jedi and their legendary Order, their strong magics and mysterious weapons made of light. Perhaps this identity explained their strange glowing appearance. Ty had bowed, telling this Jedi that it was her desire to help all those who were in need. The Jedi stroked his beard. "Then your mission is aligned with that of the Jedi." Ty had returned the smile meekly. The girl looked on at her partner as the Jedi continued. "And, it may not surprise you, but I sense a remarkable aura of the Force about you. It's very different than that which I usually detect of Force-sensitives." Both women stared at the man, not knowing what to think. The Jedi smiled again, and nodded as he turned away, raising his wrist communicator. As Ty returned to her work, the girl watched the man retreat. As he boarded a nearby gunship, he spoke into the device, looking over his shoulder at Ty. The girl could sense the curiosity and interest of the Jedi in Ty long after the gunship had ascended into the sky and out of sight.

37

It was no more than a week later when the Jedi recruiter arrived at the girl's home. Ty had met him at the door. "My name is Tyr Conzan," he had said. "And I am a Jedi Knight. It is very nice to meet you." Immediately, the girl's thoughts coalesced around Ty, and she once again began to glow as she had amid her first encounter with the Jedi. Flushed by her loyality, Ty was now glowing as bright as the Jedi. A wide smile appeared on the man's face. "How curious! Obi-Wan was right; there is a marked and powerful communion with the Force emanating from you," he said to Ty. "May I come in?" Ty hesitated, but allowed the Jedi to enter. What else would you say to a Jedi come calling at home?

38

As Ty and the Jedi had sat down to converse, the girl protectively loomed behind Ty. "I am a Jedi recruiter. I work with Jedi initiates who have unusual communion with the Force. And you are one of the most unusual I've ever met." Ty looked on blankly. "A communion with the...the Force? I'm not sure what you mean." The Jedi gestured from the walls of the house up to the ceiling. "The Force is the power that binds all things. It reveals the true depth of the world, you see." Ty had no reaction. Undeterred, the Jedi tried a different tack. "Obi-Wan reported that you are a medic. Tell me; have you found that you have a special healing touch? The kind that changes the lives of the people you care for through the deepest of empathies?" At this, Ty had swiveled around to look at the girl, who warily returned her questioning looking. "Yes, I suppose I have," replied Ty quietly. The Jedi was pleased by this answer. "Then you have achieved this through the Force. You do not yet know how to control it, but it means you have harnessed it to make your healing abilities deeply concurrent with the restorative powers of the Force. This unintentional communion is common among Force-sensitive's who have not yet had formal training. This training is what the Jedi Order specializes in." The man reached out his hands. "That is why I am here, Tynaki. Despite your advanced age, you are a peculiar prospect indeed. I am here to ask you to return to Coruscant with me to hone your skills with the Jedi, and to join the ranks of our Order. What say you?"

39

"No!" Ty and the Jedi had been astounded with the loud outburst from the girl. She had stood, trembling. "No. Ty, you cannot leave." Ty stood and embraced the girl, kissing her on the cheek. She had turned back to Conzan. "Master Jedi, I am honored by your request. But...this is my home." She glanced at the girl. "And I am with the people that I love." She smiled faintly. "I have no desire to leave." The Jedi paused, and then stood. He had sensed the power of the Force reverberating in the room, a power that was concentrated around the two women embracing one another. In light of its peculiar timbre, his mind was made. "Tynaki, you are unusually gifted candidate to join the Jedi Order. Right now, the Jedi are in the middle of an escalating war with the Separatist Confederation. The Order needs every being within the Republic who has the power to use the Force to come to the Temple for training, no matter their age or desire. It is your duty as a Pantoran citizen and of the Republic to come with me. I ask you to reconsider." Ty stared into the girl's eyes which, though unseeing, clearly had conveyed her pleading. "Master Jedi, I cannot." The Jedi sighed. "Then, I am sorry, Tynaki. I am afraid that I am no longer asking."

40

The world outside had become dark with night, and the two young women had been so frozen with trepidation at Jedi's ultimatum that they had failed to turn on a single light. "What do we do?" the girl had whispered to Ty in the darkness of their home. Even though the recruiter had said he would return in one rotation, Ty was still shaken. "I don't know." The girl racked her brain. Her hand absentmindedly strayed to grasp the gem hanging from her neck. Slowly, the memory of her father on the day he had died unveiled itself in her mind's eye. Suddenly, the girl had clutched Ty's hand. "Your parents. We must contact them, tell them what is going on, get them to refuse your training with the Jedi. From all the stories my mother told me, the Jedi are supposed to be honorable people. Surely they'll respect your parents' wishes!"

41

The conversation with Ty's parents did not provide the salvation that the two young women were hoping . "Tynaki! We are so pleased to hear from you! You should have told us sooner!," they had said joyously on the hologram screen. "You will not believe who we have just had the most privilege to visit with! A Jedi, can you believe that? He tells us that you have the same talent that the Jedi do. Ty, this is amazing news!" "So you've...met with Tyr? In person?" Ty said, the words stumbling in her mouth. "Yes! Master Conzan has agreed to allow you to become a Jedi. We immediately gave him our blessing, of course. And Ty, he wants you to become his Padawan and to train you to use this ability of yours. A Padawan! Ty, we are so proud of you. You've brought great honor to your parents, and we are delighted to have a Jedi in the family. Congratulations, Tynaki." The beaming faces of her parents made her hesitate. "But father, I do not wish to..." "What is it, Ty?" A clouded look of concern passed over their faces. "I do not wish to...disappoint you," Ty had said, defeated. "My child! Becoming a Jedi is an honor rarely bestowed! Having our daughter joining the Jedi Order makes us the happiest parents in the galaxy!"

42

The girl had thrown a bag on the floor in front of Ty. "Collect your things, Ty. We'll run." Ty was still. "We'll go where no one can find us." As she hurried to collect everything they would need, the feverish rapping of the girl's staff on the ground was the only sound in the dark. "We'll go somewhere where neither your parents nor the Jedi will find us, where we can be together." Ty had still not moved, but she now spoke quietly. "And where will we find such a happy place?" The girl had gathered their things and lifted Ty off the ground from where she had collapsed. "Orto Plutonia. No one will find us in the frozen wastes up there." She struggled to push Ty and their bags to the door. "We'll find a transport...look for a place to live...perhaps settle down with the Talz." She had spoken quickly, for every passing second had made her plan sound more far-fetched than the last. But as the girl had opened the door, her hope was dashed. A Republican solider had met them at the door, blaster rifle in hand. "Stop. I have orders from General Conzan to keep you both under house arrest until he returns." With the snow falling in a heavy curtain, the two girls were forced back inside the house until their sun returned, but when it did, it brought no warmth.

43

Ty had sat plaintively on her cushion in the room she had fashioned for meditation. The girl stood in the corner, her faced buried in her arms. Neither had spoke for the longest time. It had been terrible. They were unable to do anything but wait for the inevitable. And when the knocking of Master Conzan at the door was finally heard, the girl rushed to Ty and hugged her, tears streaming from her eyes. "I don't want to lose you, Ty. I love you." Ty had stared back, a look of resignation ossifying her features. "I know," she said sadly.

44

"I know this may be difficult now," Conzan said, kneeling to look Ty in the eye. "But the Jedi way of life will sustain you." Though she was sullen and unresponsive, the Jedi had sensed the energy of the Force swirling around Ty stronger than ever before. He looked from Ty to the girl clasping her hand, glowering at him. It was a menacing stare, but the Jedi ignored it. Ty finally spoke. "Perhaps this way I will be able to help more people in need of healing than I ever could here..." she said bleakly. "Most assuredly you will!" replied Conzan warmly. "The Republic and the Jedi Order are badly in need of your medical talents." Meanwhile, the girl glowered deeper still. "She's not going with you," the girl had announced stubbornly. "She is staying with me." The Jedi had faced girl with a glare of annoyance. "Unfortunately, she has no choice. But do not fear. She will be well treated and looked after. And the Temple, she will meet new friends to replace the old. Come now, Tyanki." The Jedi led Ty out the door and into the wind toward a waiting gunship. The girl had clasped Ty's hand in hers for as long as she could, the icy wind pushing them apart. But Ty, now resigned to her fate, looked down and her hand had slipped away, and she had disappeared in a blast of snow.

45

The girl had returned to her home in a state of denial. She cleaned and prepared a meal as if Ty had just departed temporarily and would return anytime. Then she had burst in to tears, overwhelmed by the irrevocable reality of the situation. Ty was gone, almost as if she had never existed. With Ty's presence removed, the ghost of her father flooded back into her mind. She wandered into Ty's room, where was surrounded by the traces of her friend and lover, her scent hanging in the hair like a forlorn perfume. She pulled Ty's clothes to her face, inhaling deeply between deep sobs. A tunic, a coat, a pair of gloves; they were all that was left of Ty's presence in the house. She had found a red sash that had belonged to Ty, with which she used to cover her eyes as a blindfold. For when Ty had been taken, the girl had felt as if there was nothing left that she cared to see.

46

The girl had returned to the mediation room and tried to find some measure of peace. The empty cushion beside her made her think of all the long hours she had shared with Ty there, and the cushion became a locus of her roiling emotions. It began to glow in shimmering heat. The girl had been surprised to see this now familiar luminosity when the Jedi had been about. Then came the anger. She seethed in fury: Ty was had not been Force-sensitive after all. The Force power that the Jedi had sensed coming from Ty must have been the vigor of her own protective feelings for Ty projected on their source. The Jedi had only seen what he wanted to see - a powerful Force-sensitive healer and prospective Initiate. The Jedi had been blind to Ty's feelings, and her own, or worse. At this realization, the girl remembered screaming out in the agony of frustration.

47

Immediately, there had been a crashing noise. The girl had been startled out of the grip of her anger at the sound of pottery shattering and the tinkling of small bits of broken glass as they went careening across the floor. She felt about with her extra-sensory perception and determined that the debris from the few objects remaining in the room had been scattered about as if dropped from several feet in the air. There was no one else in the room. Then came the most startling discovery of all: it had been her doing - she had broken these things, the last bits of ephemera from her father's possessions, when she had yelled out in pain. The girl closed her eyes. How could this be?

48

Not knowing what else to do, she had meditated, dwelling in her own thoughts. Then, something began to appear, like a shimmering light shining from within her. From this light grew a long tendril, which unfolded slowly like a vine. The girl had watched how this strand of light had practically grown out of her torso and moved to her hand as if she were holding a whip. Reflexively, she reached out for the vase with the thread of light which tied it to the totality of the perceptual world in front of her - and the tendril followed. Soon, the light had wrapped around the vase and it had begun to waver. Shocked at this reaction, the girl had found herself locked in a state of incredulity. Was she really moving the vase? The doubt had lingered until she could no longer ignore that the vase had taken flight, floating in the air supported by the tendril of light extending from her outstretched arm. Overwhelmed, the girl lowered the tendril of light to floor where the vase rattled about for a moment before settling and was silent. So this was the Force, she had thought.

49

The girl had spent the next few days mediating and levitating objects around her. She had practiced lifting the vase again and again. She skipped meals and failed to change her clothes. Instead, she mediated. With the natural engines of her vision covered by the sash blindfold, she had felt that the world came into clearer focus through the Force than ever before, though the girl knew this to be nonsense. On one particular day, she stayed in the room for hours, contemplating what to do, the vase bobbing in the air as if in a similar state of indecision. Then, the girl had made up her mind. She was angry, yes, but indulging in anger was not empowering - and certainly was not going to help get Ty back. She would go to Coruscant and offer her force abilities to the Jedi in exchange for Ty. If they refused, then she would offer to become one of the fabled warriors herself; then at least she and Ty could be together as Jedi, their love consummated in the unseen corners of the Temple where no Master cared to look. She resolutely lowered the vase gently to the ground and stood. She gathered a travelling cloak from the closet, a small knapsack of food, what few credits she possessed, and made for the door. She stepped out into the snow. The sun was high, casting a bright light on the white powder that covered the land as far as the eye could see. The girl could feel the light's intense rays on her skin, and she knew it would have been blinding to all those who could see it. She took the staff Ty had given her after the accident, the instrument she had, like Ty herself, leaned upon for so long. She snapped it in half over her knee, and cast it to ground. She looked upward, deep into space, trying to imagine wherever Ty now was, lost among the stars. Resolved, she had left Pantora for Coruscant with no intention to return.

50

The Head of Temple Watch listens to the girl's story. "I believe that the Jedi mistook her for a Force-sensitive." The Jedi is skeptical. "Child, the Jedi are rarely mistaken about such things. And you claim to be Force-sensitive yourself. Yet I don't..." The Jedi's speech is cut off as he finds himself rising into the air. He chuckles. What a pleasant change of pace from these usual interviews!, he thought. "Well, very good. I see you are in fact capable of using the Force." Meanwhile, the girl lowers the unseen tendril of light wrapped around the Jedi until he is seated once again. The man strokes his chin thoughtfully, then claps his hands satisfactorily. "I will tell you what; I will find a place for you to stay for the night and will inform the Council of your request. You can stay here for the following day to rest, but then..." He stands and pauses. "I do not make any promises as to your career as a Jedi. Though you may be Force-sensitive, you may be too old to begin the training." The girl is still, then slowly gets to her feet, and bows. "Thank you, Master Jedi."

51

The light from the rising sun of Coruscant pours into the Jedi Council Chamber atop the Council Spire. The Head of the Temple Watch stands in the center of the chamber, the assembled Council present for the morning's first briefing. "Maintenance reports that these repairs to the hanger and our third fighter squadron will be completed by the end of week." The Council members nod appreciatively. "And finally, there is the question of another child seeking entrance to the Jedi Order. She arrived at the Temple yesterday, a Pantoran girl of fourteen years. I gave her lodgings for the night until I could report to you. May I submit her admission to Jedi Order to the Council?" Master Mace Windu leans back in his chair. "These dispossessed children materialize at the Temple every day, now more than ever. They are refugees from this war searching for a new home. We cannot accommodate them all, needing though they may be." The Head of the Temple Watch nods in agreement. "This may be true, Master Windu, but this particular girl may be of some interest to the Order. The girl is, unlike so many of these wayward children, in fact Force-sensitive," The Head of the Temple watch explains to the Council. "In fact, for someone her age, she seems quite strong in the Force."

52

Master Plo Koon folds his hands together in interest. "And how do you gauge her strength in the Force?" The Head of the Temple Watch folds his arms. "Well, she is bereft of her natural eyesight, and yet she seems to be able to sense and navigate the world around her using the Force. She may be an excellent candidate as a Consular, or a Seer." "Much like the naturally blind Miraluka on Alpheridies perceive the world through the Force," says Master Koon to no one in particular. Scratching his chin, Master Windu speaks. "In light of this girl's advanced age, she is too old to study as an Initiate. If we were to accept her into the Order, who among us would be willing to take a blind Pantoran girl as a Padawan?" Master Windu gazes skeptically about the chamber. "I fear most of our Knights are too heavily engaged combating the Separatist threat to offer her the extra attention that would be required of such an unconventional student." The Head of the Temple Watch speaks up. "Shall I send her away then, Masters?" Hitherto silent, Master Yoda stands with the help of his small wooden cane. "It appears there is no one who will accept this girl as a Padawan, it seems. But know of such a Jedi Knight, I do. Wrong for us, it would be, to turn away one who communes with the Force."

53

Somewhere in the Colonies, a Republic shuttle descends on a brownish world suspended in space. An orange sky clings to the globe. This is the Herglic home world known as Giju.

54

Through the clouds this craft plunges to reveal a large auburn ocean. Zooming along above the water, the shuttle sends plumes of water spraying alongside its path. Soon, across the empty ocean appears a solitary island. It looms over the water like a long-forgotten sea stack, save for a small structure on its summit. It is here that the shuttle lands.

55

With a roil of hydraulic steam, the Jedi Master Yoda disembarks the craft. A hard sea wind lashes the island, and Yoda squints at the only shelter the solitary piece of land affords. He makes his way to the simple stone structure and the massive portal leading inside. Through the threshold, the wind falls away. Now, a new sound permeates the silence; the tell-tale sound of a lightsaber splitting the air.

56

At the end of the dark corridor, Yoda comes to a halt at the steps of an interior courtyard. In the center of this scene is something - or someone - whirling and turning in long graceful lines, taking huge strides back and forth. In its grasp is an extended pole arm, with two bright blue lightsabers affixed to either end. In each rotation of the staff, the blades seem to blur together in long, huge arcs, making one continuous curve of light. This is the work of a true Jedi warrior.

57

Yoda taps the ground with his cane twice to announce his presence. The massive being turns to face his unexpected guest. Instantly, the lightsabers are extinguished, the staff is collapsed, and all three elements are hung on the belt adorning the colossal frame of this giant. In only several strides, the titanic figure crosses the courtyard and stands face to face with Yoda, his hulking form dwarfing the diminutive Jedi Master.

58

"Master Yoda," says the gargantuan in a deep voice that sends a low reverberation throughout the hall. "What a pleasant surprise. How good it is to see you." The titan bows low to Yoda, kneeling deeply. Though one could hardly tell by size alone, this genuflection truly reflected the balance of power between these two Jedi.

59

"Mdlaren, in such health it is good to see you. You look like a Herglic half your age, hmm?" Master Yoda smiles and chuckles an appreciative but mischievous laugh, and motions for the Jedi Knight to rise. "How heals your wound from the campaign at Sullest?" The towering figure smirks and raises his left arm high into the air as if admiring its girth. "It is fully healed, as you can see. It will take more than a few lucky hits from a blaster rifle to stop me." His expression becomes serious. "Have you brought a mission from the Council? I am ready and eager to fulfill your will. Direct me against the enemies of our Order and I will crush them." Yoda walks slowly astride the great colossus, and the two walk side by side for a ways. He pauses. "Return to battle, you soon will. But with a different mission to ask of you, I have." The large Jedi stops in his tracks; he looks down at Yoda and says, "I serve at the pleasure of the Council. Name it, and I will see that it is done."

60

Yoda peers down the length of the courtyard. "So quickly, do not speak. The task I have for you may be more difficult than going into battle, especially for such a capable Jedi Guardian as Mdlaren Eschrik." The Herglic listens intently. Yoda sighs. "Since you were an Initiate in our Order, known you, I have. Long have you been a committed Knight, fighting many battles and winning many victories for the Jedi. The rank of Jedi Master, you should have by now attained." At this, Eschrik looks at his massive feet as if he is seeing them for the first time. Yoda continues: "But a Jedi Master you cannot become unless you successfully raise a Padawan learner to the rank of Jedi Knight. There is a young woman, a Pantoran girl, who has come to the Temple. Desires to become a Jedi Knight, she does." Eschrik stops him. "But Master, I fail to see what this has to do with me." Yoda turns to face Eschrik. "She could be powerful with the Force. A Jedi Consular, she might one day become, and perhaps with the right training, even a Seer. And your apprentice, I wish for her to become."

61

Both Jedi are silent. Eschrik finally looks to Yoda and replies, "Master, I do not wish to take on another Padawa. Besides," starts Eschrik with a shrug, "she sounds too much like my own former master for me to be a worthy teacher." At this, an enlivened expression animates Yoda's face. "In saying this, it is clear that there remains something for you to learn from Master Val Aath's example," he says, pointing his cane in the direction of the Herglic. "Perished, your former Padawans did, because they were too much like you; instilled in them your zeal for battle, you did, but their skills proved unequal to the task of survival." Yoda speaks quietly. "You need an apprentice who is different than you. Learn from one another, you will. Fulfill each other's destinies, you shall."

62

Yoda returns to the wide portal. Eschrik fingers his lightsabers at his belt. "Master Yoda, this war is escalating to an unprecedented scale. I am a warrior, not a teacher. I can best serve the Council as the former. Another inexperienced Padawan will only slow me down." Yoda continues to walk, his cane clicking against the stone floor of the solitary house. "Your effectiveness to the Council is up to the Council to determine. The steadfast, obedient, and loyal person you are today, the Jedi Order and its ideals made. Will you deny this opportunity to a young child, feeling lost and alone like you once were, to learn such things?" Eschrik frowns. "Master, I seek only to promote the greater good of the Order." "And served the Order with unfaltering fidelity, you have," replies Yoda, turning to face Eschrik. "And so I will not command you to take this girl as your Padawan. The will of the Council, it is not. Instead, ask you to train this girl to be a great Jedi like yourself, I am. At your mercy, I place this girl's fate." Yoda now stands at the threshold of the monastery, and the wind that whips around the island tussles his cloak. "If you accept this mission, to the Temple you should go." Yoda steps out into the wind. "Farewell, Mdlaren."

63

Amid several bunks in a dim room somewhere deep in the Temple, the girl awakes from a dream. It was a fitful sleep; dreams of her father, of Ty's care, their kiss, and of the loss of it all came in and out of her mind's eye. It has been some time since she had relived the events that had brought her to Coruscant. When she had finally snapped awake, it was a welcome relief to find herself in the simple bunk of the Temple. But this feeling quickly soured, and the anxiety of the decision that would be rendered that day felt suffocating. Feeling nauseous, the girl paced the room. Where would she go if the Jedi did not accept her? Helpless, she made the coarse bed and sat upon it, trying to calm her mind. Worse than her immediate fate, if the Jedi would not have her, how would she ever find Ty? Her mind raced. Maybe she would enlist in the Republic army or navy - would they accept a blind girl? - and follow in the wake of the Jedi's campaigns against the Separatists, hoping for the unlikely event that her path would lead her to Ty. Or perhaps when they would reject her, she could find a merchant ship crew with a ship on Coruscant and travel the galaxy, keeping an eye out for Ty on her adventures. The girl shook her head with a wry and unsmiling laugh. Each scenario was more implausible than the last, each successive idea less likely to succeed. To distract herself, she pulled the red sash from her waist and folded it across her eyes as a blindfold. Now all she could do was sway back and forth in unease.

64

Interrupting her feeble attempts to calm her heart, the door to the small cell opens with a hiss. In steps the Head of the Temple Watch. The girl stands abruptly. He smiles meekly. "Please sit." The girl does not move, frozen in place. The Jedi purses his lips. "My dear, I will get straight to the point. I have carried your request to join the Jedi Order to the Council. Yesterday, the Council agreed that there were no suitable Jedi Knights or Master for you to apprentice with." The girl does not flinch. The Jedi continues: "Due to your rather unique condition and the escalation of this war, there is simply no one who will take you as a Padawan learner. This must come as disappointment. For that, I am sorry." The girl quickly turns her back; she does not wish for the Jedi to see her quivering. She speaks quietly. "Will the Order not accept me as an Initiate? I will gladly accept this rank for as long as need be for a suitable Master to be found. Please..." she whispers, "do not send me away." "You are too old to be accepted as an Initiate," the Head of the Temple Watch sighs sadly. "Take the time that you need, but I must ask you to leave the Temple by the end of the rotation." Tears well in the girl's broken eyes and she wipes them away. Crestfallen, a dark shadow of the irrevocability of her rejection seems to fall upon her.

65

Except that this shadow speaks. "This must be the girl Master Yoda told me about," says a slow and expansive voice. The girl spins. A mammoth creature is standing outside the door, his wide bulk too large to fit into the small room. His long, dorsal head with two round nostrils separating two pupil-less black eyes that seemed to cling the side of his face as precariously as a droplet of dew rests upon a leaf is projected into the room. His arms are thick, rotund, bound by muscle leading to large, tripled webbed hands. His legs are more reminiscent of stalagmites growing out of the ice than any limb of a living thing the girl had ever seen. His sleeves were cut missing, the fabric of his tunic coarse and badly frayed from use. Thin wrappings pocked by stains are woven around his wrists and shins. In the shadow of this beast, her throat closes. Was this gargantuan here to forcibly remove her from the Temple Grounds? The girl tries to summon a protest, but her voice has deserted her in the shadow of the Jedi enforcer. The Head of the Temple Watch turns to see this new visitor. "Ah, Mdlaren! How good it is to see you back at the Temple. I had not received news of your return." The Herglic's wide mouth turns in a grin. "What's this, the leader of the Temple Guard is in the dark as to who is coming in and out of the Temple? Shame they did not give the job to me, Drallig" Drallig chuckles, adding "And if they had, the Council would have had no more visitors, for who would want to approach you?" The two shake hands. The girl stands quietly, not knowing what to say to this imposing visage, slow dripping tears emerging from her blindfold now. Eschrik looks the girl up and down.

66

"Child, if your desire to become a part of the Jedi Order flows as strongly as those tears, you might make it as a Jedi yet," says Eschrik exasperatedly. "What weakness you freely show!" Surprised, the girl's resolve wavers anew, and further tears threaten to well in her eyes. "I'm...sorry...I just..." She chokes, trying to speak. The huge Jedi scowls, and the girl cowers slightly. But then, her father's words ring through as if whispered into her ear: "Find your voice so that you might speak your mind!" The girl looks up at the imposing Jedi. She did not come this far to be bullied out of attaining what she wants. She clenches her fists at her side. "I think that you will find, Master Jedi, that I am strong enough to overcome any obstacle in order to join the Jedi Order." Her head pounding in this unexpectedly pointed rejoinder, she continues with this wanton candor. "In fact, I must become a Jedi." Drallig smirks, and bows slightly to Mdlaren before taking his leave. The Herglic crosses his arms. "Now that is the kind of resolve any Padawan of mine must display at all times. But I must first be sure of one thing..." The girl gazes at Eschrik, and Eschrik suddenly finds himself feeling as if he is being scrutinized by a strong stare. Ignoring this impossible feeling, he reaches in to his belt and retrieves a string of beads in a braided string which he tosses across the room towards the girl. She reflexively reaches out and catches it. Mdlaren smiles.

67

"My name is Mdlaren Eschrik. I am Knight and Guardian in the Jedi Order and a General in the Grand Army of the Republic. We Jedi are the selfless warriors of the Force, and it is our sacred duty to walk the path of the Light Side of the Force. As I live by the sacred Jedi Code, I am willing and prepared to sacrifice my life to defend the Jedi Order against those who would wish it harm. If you are willing and prepared to avow the same, I will accept you as my Padawan." The girl feels the bead in her hand. Her heart soars, but recalling that this Jedi does not seem to look kindly on overt displays of emotion, she simply nods curtly. What an asymmetrical response! We can imagine the immense joy felt by one who has seemed to have lost everything one moment, only to have it be regained in the next - and to express this reversal with a mere nod! Mdlaren continues. "This is the twine and bead traditionally tied into a braid of hair representing the status of a Jedi Padawan learner," says the Herglic formally. "To wear it, you must now take an oath and commit yourself the Jedi Code." Eschrik stares at the girl. "But be warned, there is no turning back," he says ominously. The girl fingers her mother's necklace, the only possession she has brought from home, and replies icily, "I am prepared to do what I must." "Then," says Mdlaren, "kneel before me, and repeat the Jedi Code after me."

68

"There is no emotion, there is peace," Eschrik begins. The girl pauses. The Jedi do not feel emotion?, she thinks, perplexed. How is that possible? But she has no opportunity to truly consider this, for there Eschrik stood, waiting. "Uh, there isn't emotion..." As the girl begins to speak, her love for Ty, the sole purpose for her being there, threatens to overwhelm her; she repeats the words hurriedly, as if they might betray her true feeling the longer she dwells on them. "There is no emotion, there is peace," she says finally.

69

"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge." The girl thinks of her mother, and her father's esteem for her cleverness and sensitivity. "The most introspective, empathetic, and curious young woman I have ever met," he had said proudly. Knowledge surely was a universal good. "There is no ignorance, there is knowledge," she says with more confidence.

70

"There is no passion, there is serenity." The girl recalls watching the swirling snowflakes of Pantora with her father, mediating with Ty; she has known serenity. Finally, sentiment with which she could agree whole-heartedly. These words come easily. "There is no passion, there is serenity," she says.

71

"There is no chaos, there is harmony." As the girl begins to speak, her mind wanders to the first time she became attuned to the threads that bind the world and how she was able to attain this vision with the help of Ty's mediation, when everything felt like it was in its place. The Light of the Force did seem to express deep harmony. "There is no chaos, there is harmony," she echoes.

72

"There is no death, there is the Force." The girl falls silent. With a flinch, she envisions the blast, its belching smoke, the rent air, all of which had brought the death of her father and heralded her perpetual darkness. After his death, had her father gone to a different kind of perpetual darkness? Did dead people really go to the Force? What did that even mean? Eschrik eyes her warily. Shaking her head slightly, she forces her tongue to form the words: "There is no death, there is the Force," she says unsuredly.

73

Now it is Mdlaren's turn to become silent. He gestures, and the girl obediently stands. "You may now call me Master Eschrik," says the Herglic flatly. The girl bows slightly, saying "Yes, Master." Eschrik laughs abruptly. "And what shall I call you, Padawan? I know not your name." The girl is quiet. A stillness fills the cell. Then, "My name is Faetōsa," she says calmly. "Faetōsa Rei."

74

Eschrik rubs his hand along his protruding dorsal head. "And are you ready and willing to give up your former life, and to begin your training as a Jedi, Rei?" Faetōsa nods austerely, but she is secretly elated. She had become a Jedi! Though she did not yet fully understand the precepts of the oath she had just taken, the benefits of the promise were now abundantly clear. Somewhere in this Temple, now her Temple, was Ty. She would find her, and the two would be together again."Then braid your hair and put these on," says Eschrik, handing Faetōsa a simple set of Jedi robes. "For you are now Padawan Rei. Many challenges lie ahead. May the Force be with you, Jedi."

75

Together, the Master and Apprentice walk silently down the Grand Hall of the Jedi Temple into the light of a new day.


	3. Chapter One: Bad Conscience

Bad Conscience

A repressive condition that arises as a consequence of an unhealthy morality that demonizes natural inclinations.

 _"_ _Training to become a Jedi is not an easy challenge, and even if you succeed, it is a hard life."_ -Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn to Anakin Skywalker, _The Phantom Menace_

 _"_ _Passion lines the path to the Dark Side. Fear, anger, and hate are strong passions that will cause you to lose focus and to find appeal in the easy pleasures of the Dark Side"_ -Jedi Seer Sabla-Mandibu, _The Jedi Path_

 _"_ _Fear is the path to the Dark Side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering."_ -Jedi Master Yoda to Luke Skywalker, _The Empire Strikes Back_

 _"_ _You are going to find that many of the truths we cling to depend greatly on our own point of view."_ -Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi to Luke Skywalker, _The Return of the Jedi_

1

"Padawan Rei, are you listening?" Faetōsa looks up, startled. A robed Twilek Jedi Master standing several steps above her stares in her direction. "Yes, Master Jerneja," reports Faetōsa. The woman shakes her head. "Padawan Rei, I know that studying amongst a class of Initiates must make you feel as if you have a head start as a result of your advanced age." Master Jerneja gestures to Faetōsa's peers, three Jedi Initiates, standing on the steps of the Temple below. They are little more than children. "But you must pay attention," pleads Jerneja. "These Younglings have been here for sixth months. You? Nearly one. If anything, Faetōsa, you are the student in most need of my teachings."

2

One of the Initiates emits an audible scoff. Faetōsa turns her head. The boy, a human of no more than ten years, leers at her. "Ubon-Jun, be silent," responds Master Jernja testily. "As a Padawan, Faetōsa is both your elder and your superior." Despite this telling-off, Ubon-Jun is still smiling. "She may be older than me, Master, but she's not my superior. I know way more about being a Jedi than she does!" At this Faetōsa stiffens. She had not come all this way to Coruscant to be made a fool of by a mere boy, and she can sense unchecked haughtiness radiating from within him. She would have to speak. "Master Jerneja," Faetōsa says offhandedly, "the derision of a petty Youngling does not trouble me." Ubon-Jun scowls. Giving him a stern glare, Jerneja looks back to the Pantoran. "Enough. Faetōsa, this no time for pettiness. It is my task to make you an acceptable apprentice for Mdlaren by the time you two depart at the end of the week. The learning curve for using the Force is always steep, but a week is much too short a time to make a Padawan." Master Jerneja points skyward, far beyond the spires of the Temple. "The consequences of ignorance at a time of war like this are high. Your life out there may depend on how well you pay attention here." Faetōsa nods. "I understand, Master. I shall redouble my focus." "Good," replies Jerneja. "Let's continue."

3

Master Jerneja motions to the three large obelisks standing prominently before the looming Temple. "We are here on the steps of Temple to see these three statues that commemorate the three pillars of the Jedi Order, each representing the Force, Knowledge, and Self-Discipline," she says. "These are the basis for the Jedi Code, which we all took an oath to uphold. Though these three pillars are often less than distinct, we shall examine each in kind over the course of your instruction. Each pillar contributes equally to your identity as a Jedi. Getting to know each aspect will be a life-long journey. Consider this your first step on your way toward a larger world." Jerneja begins to pace back and forth, the Initiates and the Padawan looking on. "Today, we will concentrate on the first of the three, the Force."

4

"As you know, the Force is the virtually omnipresent power that binds the universe together. There are many beings in our galaxy that can feel the Force, and many that can manipulate it, even change it. The Jedi can do all three. These are the Force abilities that our Order will teach you. A Jedi's ability to Control, Sense, and Alter the Force is the heart of your essence as a Jedi, what sets you apart from all others Force-users. Of these three Force abilities, Control is the most important to a Jedi. Control is this sense is not just feeling the flow of the Force and channeling it to your ends, Control is about focusing your mind and your body to be a conduit for the Light Side of the Force itself. This, after all, is what it means to be a Jedi: to use the Force for good. We use the Force for pacification and redemption. As the Jedi Code states, 'There is no chaos, there is harmony.' As such, the Jedi serve others, to strive for harmony in ourselves and the world around us. We defend the weak; we protect the innocent. Controlling the Light Side of the Force is what makes the Jedi the defenders of justice."

5

When Master Jerneja finishes, Ubon-Jun raises his hand, eager to demonstrate his proficiency. "Master Jerneja, would you say that the Jedi use the Force like a nerf-herder looks over his flock?" Jerneja smiles. "Yes, I suppose you could say that. As Peacekeepers, the Jedi are much like benevolent shepherds over the herd that is the various worlds of the Republic." The boy continues: "So as a Jedi, we will be like the champions of the innocent?" asks Ubon-Jun rhetorically. Master Jerneja nods. Ubon-Jun smirks indulgently in Faetōsa's direction. But she pays this no heed, for her mind is elsewhere. Should she really speak what was on her mind? "Are there any other questions?" Jerneja asks. The class at one another, shaking their heads. "Good," nods the Jedi Master, satisfied. "Excuse me, Master," blurts Faetōsa, "but why do the Jedi serve others?"

6

The cluster of Initiates stare at Faetōsa, mouths agape. Arrested mid-step, Jerneja raises her brow. Flushed, Faetōsa almost takes a step backwards; the skeptical words had all but leapt out of her mouth as if she had no control over them. "Not that serving others is not a worthy commitment!" Faetōsa follows quickly, noting the incredulous look of the Initiates. "I mean only to ask, how did it come to be that the Jedi help those who supposedly cannot help themselves?" Master Jerneja puts her hands on her hips. "The Jedi became servants of peace and justice because the people of this galaxy are vulnerable to disorder and corruption." Faetōsa thinks for a moment. "Master, what exactly does that mean?" Jerneja gestures in thought. "It means that people, both individually and collectively, are vulnerable to the qualities of the Dark Side of the Force. Passions lead to the Dark Side, feelings such as fear, anger, and hatred. Individually, we may have all felt these emotions from time to time. Collectively, many societies are gripped by such feelings in times of crisis, such as during this very war." Jerneja points to the obelisk representing the Force. "Of course, the Jedi use Control to suppress these evil feelings. You see, Faetōsa," says Jerneja, "The Light Side of the Force is balance. The Light Side is the antithesis of the Dark, of fear, anger, hatred. This is why you must pay close heed to your Control abilities, as Control shuts out the Dark Side."

7

The Initiates nod at this truth and Master Jerneja folds her hands together, secure in knowing her answer has sufficed. But Faetōsa tilts her head slightly, puzzled. Recalling her days in the classroom at her school on Pantoran, a place where she was rewarded by her teachers for her insightful questions, the young girl continues to interrogate what she had just been told. "Excuse me, Master Jerneja. I do not quite understand." The Jedi Master wears an expression of slight consternation now. "If people are naturally prone to feeling fear, anger, or hatred in their own lives, how does it follow then that the Jedi must help them?" Master Jerneja shakes her head. "I do not follow you, Padawan Rei. What do you mean?" Faetōsa continues. "I mean to say, if in the course of our lives as living beings, we experience fear, anger, or hatred, why are people in need of rescuing from these feelings? I mean, aren't they emotions that they are only naturally inclined to feel?" The class falls silent. The students all look to Master Jerneja. She smiles thinly. "It is not incorrect to ask such difficult questions," she says looking at the Initiates. "Let me try to explain."

8

"Too often people descend into anger, and hatred. These feelings are the source of evil. These people need saviors from these feelings, for they lead to the Dark Side. For thousands of years, the Jedi have been guardians of peace. We protect the weak, or those who do not have the Force-ability of Control. That would be why the Jedi seek to Control these feelings in the first place, in themselves and in others." The class is unresponsive. Master Jerneja gestures. "Think of it this way," the Jedi Master explains: "The Force is like a lake. Users of the Light Side of Force reside atop the lake and plumb its depths by meditation. But reach too far below to the underside of the surface, and you will be seized by the dark murkiness of the depths. That is the Dark Side." Faetōsa is silent. Master Jerneja clasps her hands together in a gesticulation of finality. But Faetōsa is hardly satisfied. She fingers her mother's necklace under her scratchy Jedi robe. "Padawan, I sense some disquiet in you yet. Tell me what is on your mind." Faetōsa sighs perplexed. "Well, if the Jedi are champions of the weak because we have the Force-ability of Control, then we have the means to insulate ourselves from fear, anger, and hatred." "Yes!" replies Jerneja quickly, as if reassured of some doubt, "Now you understand. That ability is why the Jedi to protect others from the Dark Side - because they cannot."

9

Faetōsa shrugs her shoulders. "But Master Jerneja, is it really fair to say that fear is a weakness?" The class looks at the Padawan in mortified silence. Faetōsa surveys their faces, and she quickly realizes that she has made some serious _faux pas_. Jerneja clears her throat to make an exasperated rebuttal: "Padawan, that is precisely the deficiency in being that we as Jedi strive to overcome every day." A deficiency in being? How could the Jedi believe such a thing? Surely, the fear she had felt at her world being veiled in eternal blackness after the explosion that had killed her father had been warranted? Or had her feelings of fear in that moment revealed a deficiency in her person, as Master Jerneja suggested? Faetōsa frowns. No, the young woman decides after a moment of contemplation. Her fear that day was an understandable reaction to objectively frightening circumstances. Who would not profess to feel any fear in such a similar position? Why regard this emotion as a weakness? This question perplexes Faetōsa even further, and her curiosity overcomes her bashfulness. "I only wonder, of course," Faetōsa intones, "because fear seems like a natural part of life. Who isn't afraid of something?" Hearing her own voice speaking with such conviction leads the matter to further fall into place in Faetōsa's mind, so the Padawan continues: "Moreover Master, do not our fears give us something to overcome, to strive to conquer? That way, when we best our fears, we grow." Ignoring the flabbergasted expression of her peers, Faetōsa ruminates on this point further. Indeed, her fear of being alone in the dark of her blindness had provided the grounds for the cultivation of her affection for Ty, and overcoming that fear had led to the blossoming of their love for one another. Faetōsa nods, decided: "So if sentient and feeling beings can use fears as means to growth, and as Jedi we must deny our fears, don't we then suppress an opportunity for growth, and in so doing, grant fear even more power over us?"

10

Master Jerneja glares at her student darkly. "Padawan, you've been here not but a month! Where did you come to learn such dangerous notions? You must remember the Code: "'There is no emotion, there is peace.'" Laying out her hands mid-air, Faetōsa smiles in wry frustration. "But Master! It seems to me that regarding fear as an unnatural weakness, as you suggest, is the far more dangerous idea. If the Jedi Code demonizes these feelings by designating them as evil, it is as if we create the very trap from which we say that people need to be rescued!" says Faetōsa, who almost laughs at the tangled logic of the situation. Indeed, she recalls the awe-inspiring presence of the two Jedi that had landed on Pantora, how quickly they had been afforded such respect before they were even introduced, how Ty's parents had been so rapidly honored by the destructive demands of their daughter by the Jedi Tyr Conzan; how they had all regarded the Jedi so highly. "Does not this attitude lead to righteousness?" Faetōsa wonders aloud.

11

There is a hushed silence now, and Faetōsa knows she has finally crossed a line. "Except, Padawan Rei," chirps Ubon-Jun, stressing the syllables of his peer's rank, "you are forgetting one thing: that the Dark Side _is_ real. And all real Jedi know that fear leads to the Dark Side!" he spits, his denigration of Faetōsa clear for all to see. "That's correct, Initiate," says Master Jerneja, her voice betraying her waning patience with Faetōsa. "Fear is a weakness that not only each Jedi must destroy within him or herself, but it is a pestilence from which the people of the Republic are in need of inoculation. We cannot entertain its existence, in ourselves or others; we must purge it from our beings using Control." "But Master," Faetōsa pleads suddenly, surprising even herself at her gumption, "isn't the better path to overcoming fear to confront it honestly, rather than to suppress it using the Force? Non-Force users are compelled to do so every day!" "Padawan Rei, that is enough!" Master Jernja says, raising her voice. "Do not underestimate the power of fear, or to be so over-confident in your abilities to overcome it, Padawan. That will lead to arrogance and temptation." Faetōsa makes to speak again, but Jerneja turns sharply to the Initiates. "Now, are there any _other_ questions to entertain before we return inside the Temple to practice our Control abilities with lightsabers?" The Initiates faces light up in excitement at this prospect, and the moment for inquiry is over. Faetōsa lowers her head. No more questions are asked.

12

The class enters the Temple proper, moving past the large obelisks that stand sentinel at the threshold. Faetōsa is lost in thought as they climb the stairs into the Temple's quiet vaults. Apart from a few Jedi strolling about the complex in quiet contemplation or the Temple's auxiliaries who scurry about more purposefully, the sprawling site is silent. Seizing the opportunity, Faetōsa scans the premise for any sign of Ty, but she is nowhere to be found. Instead of Ty's smiling face, the grim expression of the statues of Jedi heroes long past stare blankly into space. Her peers whisper excitedly in front of her as she lags behind - where was Mater Jerneja taking them? Would there be lightsabers? "Do you think we'll get to handle a weapon of our own?!" whispered Ubon-Jun to another student. The very idea of the mystical weapon seems to take hold of the Initiates' imagination.

13

Turning her attention from the Youngling's titillation, Faetōsa can only think of the lightsaber on Conzan's belt as he stood in the doorway of her home. Why did peacekeepers require such prodigious weapons,? she thought. Surely, non-lethal options were far better suited to actually keeping the peace. Under what circumstances did the Jedi take a life? Would she be expected to kill for the Order? Her stomach began to twist; was it wrong that she was unmoved, even repulsed, by the idea of being given a deadly weapon? There was only one thing that was clear: there were many questions about the Jedi that still needed answers.

14

Before she can make sense of her apprehension however, Master Jerneja led Faetōsa and her peers into a small recess within the towering halls of the Temple into a narrow passageway. Through the sliding doors of a portal, the class finds themselves in a wide, open-air courtyard. Several trees are planted within small holes of soil between the stone. This is some kind of garden, Faetōsa muses, but the class does not stop to admire them. Off to one side of the garden, stern columns ring a sunken central floor which is covered in sand. The class has entered some kind of training ground. As Master Jerneja strides towards this utilitarian courtyard, a dais rises from beneath the sandy floor. At waist-height, it ceases its ascension and locks with a hiss to reveal a cylindrical armory of Jedi weaponry. Master Jerneja pauses before plucking several saber hilts from their vertical repose. When she had selected the requisite number, she turns to her students and she says with aplomb, "These are for you."

15

With a tell-tale buzz, five blue blades leap from their hilts, washing the courtyard in an azure hue. The air of comes alive with a thick humming sound. Ubon-Jun's wondrous face seems to glow brighter than the weapon he holds aloft. Master Jerneja turns her attention from the Initiates to Faetōsa. "Padawan, if you please." Faetōsa looks down at the un-ignited hilt in her hands. The saber hilt is cold to the touch, lifeless, and equally inviting. Faetōsa reluctantly grasps the saber and depresses its activator - a bright blue beam appears before her. It vibrates and sings with an other-worldly energy. It takes all of Faetōsa's concentration to keep the shimmering blade in front of her without the hilt dropping out of her hand. "Good," Master Jerneja says, rounding on the class. "This is the weapon of our Order. These are all sparring blades; as such, they will not kill, but they can wound. I ask you to treat these weapons with deadly respect. However, do not be afraid of this weapon, for fear will cripple its use," she says, glancing at Faetōsa. "You must grow accustomed to these weapons, for they are the focal-point of your identity as a Jedi. When you choose to use this weapon, or not-" Master Jerneja seems to warn, "will come to define you."

16

Each student holds out their bent arms, both hands grasping the hilt of their blades, and gingerly lowers the blade forward. Clutching her own green blade, Master Jerneja demonstrates several stances. "As you may know," says the Jedi Master, the hum of her saber quickening with each arc through the air, "there are Seven Forms of lightsaber combat practiced by the Jedi. As you train to complete the Initiate Trials, you will discover which form is most fitted for your personality." With a fluid twist, Master Jerneja sweeps her blade from above her head, grazing the floor in an descending arc. "Will you practice Form II, that of _Makashi,_ the ancient and nuanced art of saber dueling?" Smiling at the expression of awe from her students, Master Jerneja continues: "If a solid defense is what you seek, you may choose Form III, that of _Soresu."_ With a flick of the wrist, Master Jerneja turns her saber above her head and aims it downward, its blade a ward in front of her crouched form. "With _Soresu,_ you will stand like a fortress of the Order, ableto deflect almost any attack or blaster back at an assailant." Standing tall now, Master Jerneja reverses her grip on the blade."Or perhaps _Ataru,_ Form IV, that of constant motion and -" the Jedi instructor pauses to leap into the air, somersaulting behind the astounded class, "acrobatic evasion and piercing strikes?" The Initiates gasp and clap at this dramatic display of skill, and Ubon-Jun raises a fist. "Master, I will study _that_!" Beneath her blindfold, Faetōsa's eyes roll.

17

Jerneja beams at her youngest student. "Excellent! But first, as Initiates, you will all learn Form I, that of _shii-cho,_ which consists of the basic forms of attacking and parrying." Ubon-Jun lets out an audible sigh. Eying him, Master Jerneja motions for all her students to follow her to the center of the courtyard. "Today I will teach you only a series of blade velocities. These motions will help you acclimate to your saber. This will require you to sharpen your Control of the blade, through which your coordination will require the use of the Force." Master Jerneja holds her blade aloft - then, in three motions, she lowers the blade, kneels downward, raises the blade, and finally extends it on a short lunge. "Class, follow my movements, if you please." The class spreads apart, each student emulating the Master. Faetōsa is surprised to feel the blade swing through the air in formation with her instructor almost as if it has a mind of its own. "You can practice these movements in your own time. However, these velocities are more than practice; they will settle and calm your mind in turbulent times. Practicing your Forms will clear your mind of fear, of doubt, and of weakness." As Faetōsa repeats the velocity, she considers this advice. It was almost as if Jernja offered velocities as a way to clear one's mind and heart as if these chambers were too small to accommodate more than one feeling.

18

After a time, Master Jerneja steps aside to allow her class to continue unsupervised. "When you are finished with your last set of velocities, take a moment to compose yourselves and reflect on your first experience with your new lightsabers." She steps away. Ubon-Jun takes the opportunity to confer with his fellow Initiates. Looking down at his ignited saber in wonder and determination, the Youngling boasts of his would-be glory. "One day, I will become a Jedi Knight, and I'll build my own lightsaber, more powerful than this one!" Save for Faetōsa, his peers look at him as he stabs the air with the blade, indulging the vision that they too hope to share. "As a noble servant of the Jedi, I will defend the weak, the innocent, and the helpless to defeat evil!" Climbing the steps of the courtyard, Ubon-Jun swings his lightsaber left and right in exaggerated motions. "With my blade, I will become a Jedi warrior unequaled in the history of the Republic!"

19

Deactivating her saber, Faetōsa laughs at this pomposity. Ubon-Jun frowns at her. "What did you want to say, Rei?" Faetōsa turns from the bellicose Initiate, crossing her legs in mediation like she had done with Ty in her home on Pantora. She places the lightsaber in front of her in the sand and gazes at it. "Is that really the nature of the lightsaber? A deadly weapon with no peer, used in the protection of weaker beings?" Ubon-Jun narrows his eyes. "Yes, of course it is!" Faetōsa shakes her head, thinking of Conzan's near kidnapping of Ty. "Armed with this weapon, I think you might become arrogant." Ubon-Jun is taken aback. "What are you talking about?" "The lightsaber, in its unparalleled strength, seems to make you think everyone who cannot command one is a weakling in need of your protecting," she muses, eyes closed. "With lightsaber in hand, your relationship to others is one of superiority, Ubon-Jun. You speak as if you regard everyone else as if they are powerless. Well, they aren't. Millions of people get on without the Force every day, and they're pretty strong." Ubon-Jun sneers. "You're the one who is weak, Rei!"

20

Overhearing accusatory tones, Master Jerneja makes her way back towards the students to calm her class, but Faetōsa, her attention on Ubon-Jun, fails to sense the approach of the Jedi Master. "Maybe. But what Master Jerneja told us will make all of us regard anyone who is fearful as weak - including ourselves! You think the Jedi are strong because they train us to use Control abilities to check our fear. But I think this makes us turn an unpleasant but natural feeling into an abnormal abhorrence. I don't understand." Faetōsa shakes her head. "If the Jedi insist that people must suppress their fears or else they are weak, then we Jedi are bound to regard everyone who cannot Control the Force as inherently weak, right?" Faetōsa though still sitting, is now quite animated. "I mean, doesn't that sound manipulative to you, Ubon-Jun?"

21

With this pronouncement, Ubon-Jun's silence ends. "Don't speak ill of my Order, Gray Padawan!" Flushed with frustration at the Pantoran girl's audacity, Ubon-Jun points his lightsaber at Faetōsa in menacing fashion, the blade nearly grazing her cheek. The other Initiates gasp. Before she realizes what is happening, Faetōsa instinctively raises her arm and pushes out her hand. Summoning a tendril of light and guiding it as a farmhand lassos a dewback, Faetōsa wraps the boy's wrist in light, wringing the lightsaber out of his hand. The extinguished hilt is sent pattering across the sandy courtyard. Ubon-Jun grasps his hand in pain and astonishment.

22

"That's enough, both of you!" Master Jerneja interjects. Confiscating Ubon-Jun's fallen lightsaber by summoning it with the Force, the Twilek Master pulls Faetōsa from the ground and wrests her to the side of the courtyard. Faetōsa is surprised, not only by her instinctual and reactive disarming of Ubon-Jun, but by Jerneja's ensuing powerful grasp. "Silence your tongue, Padawan!" Jerneja says impatiently to her impudent student. "You are speaking most unlike a Jedi today. You must harness your anger lest it control you!" she says in a shrill voice. Then, Jerneja becomes composed and calms herself. "Being a Jedi means you must be above your anger, no matter how warranted your anger may be," she says, glancing at a glowering Ubon-Jun. Faetōsa makes to respond, but Master Jerneja's chastisement does not subside. "You must not entertain these kinds of questions, Faetōsa. I understand that you be may be struggling to adapt to our Code from your former life, when such inquiries were perhaps welcomed. But you mustn't continue to challenge me, or other Jedi, else you be regarded as an adversary." Through her blindfold, Faetōsa can easily discern her teacher's severity writ large across her face. "Listen to me, Faetōsa," she says in a lowered but steely voice. "I am trying to do you a favor by answering your questions. Other Jedi, however, will not be so forgiving of your subversiveness, especially -"

23

"Master Eschrik!" cries Ubon-Jun. Master Jerneja loosens her grasp on Faetōsa's robes. Faetōsa turns to see her Master looming in the courtyard, larger than the columns next to which they stand. Jerneja smiles tersely at the sudden appearance of the Herglic. Faetōsa's heart plummets. She knew what was about to happen - Jerneja would inform Eschrik of his Padawan's insolence, and the Herglic Knight would abandon his promise to train her. She should have stopped while she was ahead, Faetōsa thinks. What was she thinking to speak so far out of turn? Why had she so wantonly jeopardized her station as a new Padawan? Why had her father's advice to speak her mind seem to get her only in trouble with Master Jerneja? Her doubts about Control had gnawed at her, true, but was splitting hairs with a Jedi Master worth risking her chance to ever see Ty again? "Master Jerneja," says Eschrik, bowing slightly, though he remains unsmiling. "I am here to claim my Padawan," he says, looking down at Faetōsa. "This is unexpected, but of course," says Jerneja. "However, may I speak with you a moment, Mdlaren?" The Herglic scowls and eyes Faetōsa, who is rooted to the spot in apprehension, before he trudges away to confer with the Twilek Master.

24

"I have been made to understand by Master Jerneja that at this point in the story, you unwittingly used a Force-push to disarm the Youngling, this You-bun June? Is it true?" Eschrik glares at Faetōsa. The master and apprentice have retired into the Temple, Master Jerneja and her class dismissed. Faetōsa says nothing, flinching under the imposing sight of her master as if downstream from a dam rumored to have sprung a leak. How would he punish her for her impertinence? "Well, Padawan?" he grumbles, "I do not have all day." "Yes, Master. I did...push him. I'm sorry," she says glumly, though glad he did not inquire more about her subversive questioning of Master Jerneja. At this, the Herglic stands tall, reaching an enormous height. "Then I must compliment you," he says, trudging on his giant feet down the main hall of the Jedi Temple, leaving Faetōsa to quicken her pace just in order to keep up with his oversize stride. "I am pleased to have a natural fighter as a Padawan, even one so small as you!" Faetōsa, rather surprised by Eschrik's reception to her antics, takes the opportunity to consolidate her Master's approval. "Master Eschrik, if I may...what exactly did I do when I disarmed the Youngling?" The Herglic is now keenly interested. "It is a simple martial ability," says Eschrik. "You instinctively used the Force to defend yourself. Perhaps you'll be an excellent _Niman_ fighter." Faetōsa looks at her Master quizzically. She had not learned of this style from Jerneja. "Form VI," he says distractedly, "or the use of Force abilities channeled through your body intermixed with lightsaber combat. Useful tricks, but just tricks if you ask me." Eschrik grips the two lightsabers affixed to his belt. "Besides, where we are going, you're going to need more than just tricks to survive."

25

"Master, where are we going exactly?" The imposing Knight stops in his long tracks as a set of large blast doors open to reveal a hangar, where Jedi fighters, gunships, and other transports are docked, crammed in like fish. On the horizon lies the constant traffic and towers of Coruscant, framed by the Core World's sun. A gunship readies on a platform nearby. The Herglic's black eyes twinkle. "I have finallyreceived orders from the Jedi Council. I am to resume my former command of the 173rd Legion from aboard the cruiser _Ardent._ I am going back to the war." Faetōsa feels her insides shrivel. To war? "Out there?," she points numbly. Eschrik smiles darkly as if almost excited by the notion. "Yes, out there." Spinning in place, Faetōsa scans the Temple desperately. No familiar faces; no Pantoran faces. No Ty. Faetōsa turns to Eschrik fearfully. "B-but Master, respectfully, I don't think I am ready! Master, let me stay, continue my training. Then I'll join you!" Eschrik shakes his head. "Nonsense, girl! You will learn more in the field in the course of a day than you would here in a month. Besides, you have a lightsaber and your velocities to perform, and we know you can use the Force in combat - your instincts will guide you in the rest." Eschrik heads for the gunship, leaving his Padawan trembling. Fearing she may never see Ty again, she is rooted to the spot until Eschrik's voice hardens into a command. "Come, now. We have our duty to fulfill." Looking mournfully behind her, Faetōsa has no choice but to follow her master towards the waiting gunship - and to the Clone War.


	4. Chapter Two: Crusade

Crusade

A holy war undertaken on behalf of a religious morality.

 _"_ _Your father wanted to you to have this when you were old enough, but your uncle wouldn't allow it. He feared you might follow Obi-Wan on some damn food idealistic crusade like your father did."_ -Jedi Master Obi Wan Kenobi to Luke Skywalker, _A New Hope_

 _"_ _I am looking for a great warrior."_

 _"_ _Wars do not make one great."_ -Jedi Master Yoda to Luke Skywalker, _The Empire Strikes Back_

 _"_ _Not every Jedi agrees with this war. There are many political idealists among us."_

 _"_ _But a traitor?"_

 _"_ _I'm afraid one can eventually become the other."_ -Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker to Padawan Ahsoka Tano, _The Clone Wars: "Sabotage"_

 _"_ _The Clones are warriors, professional soldiers created by the Republic trained to fight, and die if necessary, in our war against the Separatists_."-Grand Army of the Republic Colonel Gascon, _The Clone Wars: "Missing in Action"_

1

Somewhere in the Mid Rim, a massive gray ship with red markings suddenly appears out of hyperspace. The ship glides silently towards a blue green planet, nestled astride a nearby nebula. Above its orbit lies two equally large wedge-shaped ships, hovering in formation. Before the new arrival can close with the others, its hangar bay doors open. From the belly of the ship shoots a dart-like fighter craft, which shoots like an arrow from a taut bow straight for the surface of the planet. Minutes later, out from behind the dark side of the globe, a swarm of interceptors emerges like flies, peppering the small fighter with green laser beams. The small arrow-like craft nimbly dodges these pursuers and vanishes into the cloudy atmosphere of the planet below.

2

" _Ardent_ actual to General Eschrik, how read you?" A human man of middle age with a wide jaw leans into a holographic display, its blue light glinting off his captain's insignia. All around him, officers and technicians are tending their controls and displays, reading the _Ardent's_ vital signs after its long hyperspace jump from above Coruscant. Several soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic stand at every portal to the bridge, taciturn, bearing blaster rifles and clad in white armor. One such man, a clone soldier sporting officer's markings on his shoulder, approaches the young woman looking out the view port to the rapidly approaching planet. "Major Reth, does my master always do that?" she asks. The clone officer strokes his chin, squinting toward the planet. "Yes, I'd say that little maneuver is standing operating procedure, Commander Rei." Faetōsa shakes her head. "Major, how many times must I say it? Please don't call me that." The major appraises Faetōsa curiously. Never before has he encountered a Jedi who has eschewed any honorific. "And how many times must I remind you, sir, that in the Grand Army of the Republic, regardless of your experience – not to mention your stature – all the Jedi have military ranks. And that makes you, as a Padawan, are a commander." Faetōsa grunts. "But I know nothing of military affairs! The rank is entirely without merit, and it's a disservice to actual military professionals like yourself," replies Faetōsa bitterly. Without warning, the doors of the bridge open with a soft hiss to reveal a pilot, who strides onto the bridge in a fury. "Speaking of military professionals..." mutters the major.

3

"Captain Drayen. I just came from the flight deck. My squadron's pilots are ready. Their ships are ready. I am ready. So why in the name of a droid's Great Maker did you send me there to stand by and watch General Eschrik take off alone into enemy fire in that modified Delta 7 of his? Doesn't he know everyone needs a wingman, even a Jedi?" The speaker is a raven-haired woman who stands in a full flight suit with a hand on her slender hips. Before Captain Drayen can respond, the holographic projector crackles to life where an image of Eschrik levitates in space. "Because, Lieutenant Commander Kittani, the 173rd is engaged in combat on the surface, and I am their wingman," says Eschrik in a mocking tone. Even though Eschrik's voice is distorted by the atmosphere separating him and the ship, Faetōsa discerns his tenor hardening. "And with all due respect to you and your pilots, Commander, I am faster when I am unencumbered by your clone pilot." Lieutenant Commander Kittani shifts in her flight suit. "Wouldn't count on it," she mumbles under her breath, casting a suspicious sideways stare at Faetōsa. Appraising his squadron leader, Captain Drayen suppresses a knowing smirk. Jayla Kittani had never played nicely with others, had she?

4

But Eschrik is apparently not in the mood for such humors. The sound of battle can be heard over the transmission, and Eschrik's proximity to their martial origins seems to have changed him. His once serious demeanor is loosened, animated now by a kind of pleased timbre like that of a confident expert about to perform a challenging but rewarding task. "Is my Padawan there, Major Reth? Good. Would you tell her that in accordance to her rank and station, I would like her to order her subordinate Lieutenant Commander Kittani to show more respect to her commanding officer?" Captain Drayen's smile vanishes. Reth holds a glove over his eyes while Kittani stares incredulously at Eschrik's face. Faetōsa pauses. The three officers now look in her direction. "Master Eschrik, surely –" begins Faetōsa, but the Herglic will not be deterred. "Faetōsa, do you think now is the best time for your incessant questioning?" Faetōsa is taken aback; perhaps Eschrik hadn't forgotten her stubbornness with Master Jerneja at the Temple two days prior, and this was his punishment. Flustered, the girl looks at the pilot, resigned to obey her master's steely resolve. "Lieutenant Commander Kittani, please listen to the briefing," she says, voice trailing off. "Don't you dare order me about, girl!" erupts Kittani. "You can go straight to –" "Kittani," interrupts Drayen. "Do as General Eschrik and his Padawan say." The pilot bristles, shaking her head and mouthing her incredulity. Reth stiffens and stares ahead, ignoring her protestations. Faetōsa dares not to breathe. Then, finally: "Yes...sir," Kittani mutters none too politely, and Faetōsa exhales in relief. "Excellent," replies Eschrik as if he had accomplished a great task. "Now that you have your house in order, Captain Drayen," says Eschrik, the sound of blaster fire and the echoes of explosions punctuating his speech, "let us review our orders from the Jedi Council."

5

"The _Ardent_ is in position above Garos IV, General," reports the captain in assured tones. "To counter the threats of both the Separatist fleet and Garos' belligerent neighbor Sundari, we've entered a blockade formation around the planet with _Constant_ and _Oathtaker_. With our firepower and their support capabilities, we shouldn't have a problem preventing any more Separatist and Sundari ships from reaching the surface. This should allow us to starve out their assault on the Garosian capital of Ariana and liberate the city to restore to power the Republic's allies in their government. As soon as you give the order General, we will launch our remaining gunships with the assault elements of the 173rd led by Major Reth and escorted by our fighter wing." The major steps forward. "Once we land, we'll link up with you, General, and move on the defensive redoubt that serves as the lynchpin to the Separatist siege lines around the city. My commanders on the ground tell me that its defended by elements of both the Separatist battle droid army and the Sundari colonial force. Therefore, this position won't not be taken easily, sir." The major stops, and Faetōsa follows his eyes: he looks not to Eschrik now, but to the Captain. "Sir, I request we hold the assault on this redoubt until we can requisition heavy armor to carry my boys across that the no-man's land that separates our line from theirs. Without that armor, we're going to get chewed up out there, sure as a bantha chews cud." Eschrik's voice is unmoved. "This is no time for such caution, major. If we wait, Separatist capital ships may arrive and challenge our blockade. An orbital bombardment and Lieutenant Commander Kittani's air support will have to suffice." Captain Drayen eyes the major with sympathy, and asks quietly, "Major, can your men take that redoubt?" The major glances to the pilot, who nods slowly back. Reth turns back to the captain, glaring through Eschrik's holographic visage. "Yes, sir, they can." "Good, major, good," says Eschrik absentmindedly. "Now, I must get to the front line. I await your arrival. And bring my Padawan with you."

6

Faetōsa is nauseous. Her stomach is churning, but not from the staccato motion of the atmospheric entry of the gunship. Instead, she clutches a lightsaber and feels ill. She has brought this weapon from the Temple, the same one given to her by Master Jerneja. Though she has used it since to refine her Form I velocities and to practice sparing with her master on the trip to Garos, the weapon has since been altered by Eschrik to allow for its most deadly power setting. No longer would it raise mere bruises and braises on those unfortunate enough to fall under its blade. The hilt is slippery in her sweating palms, and Faetōsa can hardly believe the energy weapons' lethal power can be contained by the thin cylinder of metal in her hand. Would she have to use the Jedi weapon to harm another living being? Worse, would even be able to defend herself? Could she die here, today, on some Middle Rim planet, never to see her home or Ty ever again? She shivers. Can you imagine the crucible of fear that an impending battle must inflict on its combatants who must experience it like an inescapable vortex? The degree of this terror would likely render a lesser person paralyzed. As for the young Pantoran girl, it nearly does. Her breath is caught in her throat, as she chokes on her mortal anxiety.

7

The descending gunship lurches in midair, and Faetōsa snaps out of her reverie. In the thick hot of the troopship, she tries to breath calmly, but manages only to gulp down the heavy air in desperate hyperventilation. A solider standing behind her sheds his helmet and puts a gloved hand on her shoulder. "Hey, Commander." Faetōsa rounds on the soldier, gripping the handrail as if it were the only thing between her and the void of space. "If you don't mind me saying to a superior officer, sir, this is my first deployment too. Name's Flash." He speaks cautiously but earnestly. "It's okay to be afraid before battle. Hell, I've been bred for combat, and I'm still scared out of my wits! The nervousness will generate adrenaline, which'll keep you sharp in combat." Faetōsa actually laughs. "You don't know much about Jedi, do you, Flash?" The clone soldier withdraws his hand and stands erect. "Just trying to help, sir." Faetōsa is surprised to hear the hurt in his voice, and she looks at him directly. "Thank you, Flash. Adrenaline aside, I'd sure feel better if you stay close once we land, okay?" The solider dons his helmet anew and salutes. "Yes, sir! You can count on me, sir!"

8

"Thirty seconds! Final checks!" yells Major Reth from the cockpit. The soldiers load their weapons and disable their safeties. An alarm sounds and the gunships' doors slide open. Wind whips across the deck, forcing even the blindfolded Jedi to squint. Stretching her Force perception to its limits, Faetōsa is overwhelmed by the scene of violence around her. The rapidly approaching ground is pockmarked with smoking craters, ripped asunder by the _Ardent's_ heavy cannons. Two trenches face one another separated by perhaps a quarter of a league, and between them, a fusillade of blue and red lasers create an impenetrable lattice of death. In the distance, the skyline of the city of Ariana is filled with dark columns of smoke. As the gunships descend behind the Republic's battle lines, Faetōsa realizes that the ground is littered with dead soldiers and smashed droids. Wheeling overhead, the _Ardent's_ fighter wing of ARC-170 fighters led by Lieutenant Commander Kittani are confronting the Separatist droid fighters, sending their flaming hulks on a one way trip to the planet's surface where they explode in fireballs. The flight of gunships nears the ground behind the Republic line, their engines scattering debris across the landing zone. Faetōsa sees Eschrik's fighter, and she senses him nearby. "Welcome to Garos IV, gentlemen!" shouts the major. "Go, go, go!" Faetōsa leaps for the ground and begins to sprint away from the gunship, a platoon of soldiers in her wake.

9

The battle sows chaos all around the Pantoran girl. As she weaves her way between discarded munitions and burning debris, Faetōsa finds an unexpected measure of calm amidst the storm of combat. She begins to take stock of the cacophony around her and slowly starts to contain its whirling action in her mind's eye; never before has her Force-vision been tested in such a way. A wave of battle droids is overrunning the closest trench, and the clone soldiers there are engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Amid the shouts of soldiers and the whizzing of lasers all around her, Faetōsa hears Kittani's voice from the transponder on her wrist. "That's it, major. We've cleared the sky of bogies, and the ARCs are all yours." Faetōsa looks up. Two Republic fighter bombers scream overhead, waiting to be guided to targets on the ground. "Looks like your boys in the trench could use some help," crackles Kittani's voice. Faetōsa slows to a jog and raises the transponder to her wrist, and the clone soldier behind her ushers her behind cover. "Don't stop out in the open. Gotta keep your head down out here," says the solider. "Thanks, Flash," she murmurs, breathing hard as they crouch behind a bank of soil. "Kittani, can you see Master Eschrik from up there? Can you tell me where he is?" One of the ARC fighters high above rolls over, its canopy aiming earthward. The ace pilot laughs. "You mean to tell me kid, that you can't see him from down there?"

10

The loose soil of the trench wall, wet with blood and oil, crumbles as Faetōsa and her attendant platoon of soldiers slides down its face. "I can see his lightsabers from here! Just ahead!" shouts Flash. The Padawan and the soldiers rush forward. They round a bend in the trench; there, they are met with the imposing sight of the Herglic Jedi Knight in the heat of combat. Faetōsa and her platoon halts in disbelief. Amidst a crowd of battle droids and a heap of dead clone soldiers, Eschrik's blue lightsabers whine in constant motion, his fists pounding, his feet crushing. His huge frame twists and moves unnaturally fast. Overhead blows, slashing strikes, reverse cuts all decimate the droids, sending machinery and wiring exploding in a shower of sparks and lightning. What few lasers are shot in his direction by the droids are masterfully reflected, and the occasional beam that grazes his hulking frame do so with no appreciable effect. As the droids are felled by the Jedi behemoth in ones, twos, and threes, something in Faetōsa's heart quivers – though the droids are automatons made for war, it is her master that is the true killing machine.

11

Smoke from the broken machines dissipates. Eschrik turns, chest rising and falling as if in light exercise. "Ah ha! Here is my Padawan. Welcome to the field of battle!" He slaps her on the back, causing her to stumble. Laughing, the Herglic scans his surroundings, his gregariousness seemingly out of place in the field of slaughter. Though they have only known each other for no more than a month, he has never seemed to welcome Faetōsa's presence more than now. "Here it is, my apprentice: the place where we prove ourselves as Jedi. How I've longed to return." He clutches his fist. "But how disappointing that the enemy can muster only such weak opponents! They are no more formidable than the remotes with which you've been training." Flash looks at the slew of fallen clone soldiers in the mud of the trench. "They must have been more than remotes," says Flash quietly. Eschrik does not notice. He climbs to the top of the trench overlooking the no-man's land. "Now that we've repulsed the enemy's paltry attempt to break through our own encircling lines, we must carry the fight to the trench that they use to besiege the city and take that redoubt. Come, Padawan! Show us the way!"

12

Faetōsa tries to survey the enemy lines from the lip of the trench. She feels over the debris, through the smoke, and over the churned and blasted dirt, looking for a path forward. Though her master and the platoon are awaiting her word, something gnaws at Faetōsa, distracting her from the task. While she has yet to use her own saber, Eschrik has already been engaged in combat for hours. And rather than taxing him as she would have expected, he seems to be deriving energy from it. How? And more importantly, why? "Master, I don't know if a ground assault will be possible," she says. "I think Major Reth was right. Without heavy armor, I can't see any way across the no-man's land." She looks over her shoulder at Flash. "We'll all be shot in our tracks." Eschrik grunts. "Nonsense, Faetōsa. A Jedi is at home in battle. And when you are at home, you find surety, confidence, and victory. There is a way across, and we will find it." Unexpectedly, Faetōsa is overwhelmed by the last images of her life with her natural sight – the snow, the sudden heat, the explosion. Her father. She grimaces. She would never be at home in battle. Eschrik takes up a pair of electrobinoculars. "There. Do you see it?" Faetōsa squints, tracing the contours of the battlefield in her mind. "See what, master?" "Our way across," he replies enigmatically.. "There, in the middle of the field. That wreckage of a droid fighter." She espies the blasted hulk. Behind it cower several crippled battle droids, wandering in circles. "Alright, master, but what then?" She looks to Eschrik. "We will use it to get across the field, and draw their fire," he replies matter-of-factly. Faetōsa throws up her hands. "But how?" Eschrik grins. "Come, now, Padawan. Use a little imagination. Are you ready?" Faetōsa turns to Flash. "What about my platoon?" Eschrik's eyes remain locked on the wreckage. "Give them the command to follow us." Faetōsa halts. "But Master Eschrik, shouldn't we wait to coordinate with Major Reth and the rest of the Legion?" Eschrik looks impatiently at Faetōsa. "Do you have a comms link with Lieutenant Commander Kittani? Good. Then we have all that we require."

13

The soldiers line up on the wall of the trench. Eschrik looks to his Padawan. "Ready to do as I have taught you?" Faetōsa nods. "We'll be right behind you, sir," announces Flash. Eschrik finally turns in acknowledgment of the clones. "Try and keep up as best you can. Now, onward!" The platoon surges up from the trench and forward into no-man's land, sprinting towards the wreckage of the droid fighter. Red lasers from the enemy line begin to criss-cross the running formation, downing several soldiers. Flash returns fire wildly, and tries to protect his Pantoran commander by shielding her from the enemy fire. But Eschrik and Faetōsa are cheating physics to accomplish this passage unscathed. Somehow, the Herglic is moving with miraculous speed, pounding the ground in lengthy, earth-shaking strides. Meanwhile, Faetōsa has sprinted ahead and, with palms outstretched, takes a running leap into a forward flip. Flash and the other clones watch on as the girl leaps into the air in a somersault, practically flying along a long arc to safely land in front of the wreckage almost three rods ahead. "Jedi," Flash mutters and sprints on.

14

Standing upright, Faetōsa allows the long springs of light emitting from her hands to dissipate. Floored by her Force-jumping vault into the sky, Faetōsa smirks. She could do much more than lift vases it seemed! Shielded by the wreckage of the droid fighter, the enemy blaster fire cannot reach her here. Suddenly, two damaged battle droid emerge from behind the wreckage, raising their weapons. Reflexively, Faetōsa summons a new thread of light to slash the first droid, ripping it asunder. But the second droid moves too quickly and opens fire. In the speed of a heartbeat, Faetōsa's blue saber is ignited, and she maneuvers its blade to interdict the laser. The red light ricochets off the blue blade at a wild angle and disappears into the sky. Without a second guess, Faetōsa arcs the blade in downward slash as if in the middle of a well-practiced velocity, severing the droid in half. Exhaling, Faetōsa is relieved to be free of her assailants, but a nearby crunching of metal forces her to turn on the spot. A human boy, no older than she, wearing fatigues emblazoned with the emblem of Sundari, is standing with her directly in his gun sights.

15

Time seems to slow. With ignited lightsaber in hand, Faetōsa can simply reach out and strike the boy down. But the idea of dissevering a boy, evaporating bone, searing flesh, and vaporizing blood with the acidic plasma of her weapon is too much for the Pantoran girl to imagine. There would be no cut wires or sparks in the aftermath of this attack. But the Sundari solider shows no similar hesitation. Two quick bolts of light emerge from the muzzle of his blaster. Faetōsa swings her blade to deflect the first, but the rapidity of the shots cannot be countered. The second laser grazes her collarbone, ripping open her tunic and burning her skin. Falling to the ground, Faetōsa cries out in pain and outstretches her hand to blast the Sundari off his feet using the Force. This attack sends him careening into the shelter of wreckage, and his blaster rifle goes skittering into the debris. Before she can detain the man, however, a shadow falls over him.

16

Time begins to speed up. The titanic figure of Eschrik appears, causing a look of sheer terror to take hold in the boy's eyes. Holding his staff aloft like an ancient javelin and running at full speed, Eschrik unleashes the weapon into the air with a Force-aided throw and impales the young man with his lightsaber. The blade bores its way into the boy's chest with supernatural force, and Faetōsa averts her eyes at the ghastly sight. Eschrik approaches to remove his blade from the corpse of the boy, but the hilt of his saber is buried deep in the man's chest cavity. Eschrik stands over the Sundari soldier and uses his thick foot to pry his Jedi weapon out of the corpse. With a sucking sound, the lightsaber leaves a cauterized hole clear through the flesh to where the boy's heart was only a moment earlier suspended in his breast, frozen in fear. Ascertaining that his Padawan is safe, Eschrik moves to return the girl to her feet. Instead, she vomits on his outstretched hand.

17

The platoon of soldiers arrive. Panting heavily, Flash runs to Faetōsa, who is bent over her knees, shaking. "Are you alright, sir?" "She is fine, soldier," returns Eschrik. Flash leans over her. Dazed, Faetōsa looks up at the platoon. "So few. So few of you made it. I...I'm so sorry." Looking at Flash, then to the Sundari boy, tears well in her eyes. "Steel yourself, Padawan," Eschrik says annoyed. "Your emotions cloud your vision. Remember the your teaching of the Code: 'There is no chaos, there is harmony.' Besides, these soldiers and I am in need of your aid now," says Eschrik. As Faetōsa stifles a wracking sob, her master looks to the enemy line. "We must move this wreckage forward, toward the redoubt. We'll hide behind it as cover. That is how we will breach its wall." Faetōsa wipes a sleeve across her mouth and stands tall, clutching her shoulder. "I will try," she says weakly. Eschrik frowns at her. "Try? There is no try. Now, together." The two Jedi reach out their hands, summoning threads of Force. Bands of light encircle the crashed fighter, and with an uplifting motion from the master and apprentice alike, the wreckage floats off the ground and begins to wander forward. The clone soldiers lean against the wreckage, ducking around the sides to snap off return fire toward the enemy. As the little group steps over broken droids and fallen clones, Faetōsa begins to feel as if she might faint from the exertion. "A little more," whispers Eschrik, eyes closed. At the foot of the redoubt, the girl collapses. The wreckage abruptly drops to the ground, but it has traveled far enough. Eschrik pulls Faetōsa safely behind their shelter and rouses her. "It's time," he says.

18

Long shadows of dusk begin to crawl around the wreckage of the droid fighter. The appearance of the debris has since drawn the attention of a company of battle droids, who begin to pour from their doubt and close on the island of refugees so far from the Republic's line. As they pass between them what ammunition they have left, Flash encourages his fellow soldiers. Raising his comm link to his mouth, Eschrik hails the fighter squadron droning high over the battlefield. "Lieutenant Commander Kittani, I need you to deliver an airstrike to the following coordinates. I am uploading them to you now." Kittani's voice is piped through the speaker. "Yes, General Eschrik. I am on the approach. But sir," her tenor wavering, "these coordinates may be incorrect. They are practically right on top of your current position. With night falling, sir, I'm not sure that –" "Proceed as ordered, Lieutenant Commander," Eschrik says sternly. Faetōsa's head is foggy. She struggles to extend her perception beyond her immediate surroundings. She hears a voice through the fog –"Danger close, I repeat" – then, the import of what she has just overheard hits her all at once. Before she can speak, Eschrik wraps his gigantic arm around her waist and leaps into the air using the Force. "Wait, master!" The Padawan reaches out desperately for the ground. "Flash! Flash!" she screams. The clone soldier hears his name and looks upward in time only for his gaze to be met by a wreath of fire.

19

As soon as Eschrik lands with impossible softness in a nearby crater, Faetōsa scrambles away from the Herglic's grasp as quickly as she can crawl away. A pair of ARC fighters swoops away into the distance, their ordinance discharged. Climbing the crater's edge, Faetōsa looks back towards their abandoned shelter, separated now by a distance too great for a clone soldier to have traversed. All that remains of the platoon is an extensive stretch of charred ground and burning wreckage. The redoubt is gone, the droids are gone – and the clone soldiers are gone. Faetōsa sinks to the ground. Everything becomes a blur. Countless voices call out over her transponder. "We've got friendly fire. I repeat, friendly fire," reports someone solemnly. Seemingly from far away, the voice of Major Reth can be heard, desperately searching for answers. Then, the crestfallen voice of Captain Drayen comes over the comm: "Return to the _Ardent_ immediately, Commander Kittani." The battlefield is swimming in Faetōsa's mind, and she collapses, tears flowing silently from her eyes. From behind her, the voice of Eschrik speaking into his comm: "The redoubt has been destroyed. All forces, stand down for the night. Make your preparations for the final offensive at dawn. Tomorrow we liberate the city." The disembodied voices blur together, and Faetōsa gives up listening. Wracked by grief, she slips into exhausted sleep.

20

Hours later, Faetōsa awakes. The world is no longer spinning. She sits up. The sky is dark, save for the occasional flashing light and later report of artillery in the distance. At the bottom of the crater sits Eschrik in silent repose. Faetōsa slides down to his side. "Ah, you're awake," he says. "The army prepares to mobilize in a few hours. We will advance right through the hole we punched in their redoubt. For the rest of tonight, however, we will keep our heads down here," he explains routinely. "Why? Master, why?" Faetōsa pleads. Eschrik opens an eye. "The presence of the clones so close to the redoubt concentrated the enemy's reserve forces in one place along their line, Padawan. Kittani's bombing, though it came at a steep cost, has now opened the path to our victory. Those clones did not die in vain. They served their purpose." Faetōsa sits in front of her master, knees to her chest. "Their purpose, master?" The Jedi opens both eyes now. "Padawan, I know this is your first experience in battle. I realize that it must be difficult for you. But you must understand that those troops were clones. They knew that their lives were meant to be sacrificed in the service of the Jedi." "In the service of the Republic, you mean?" Faetōsa shoots back. "The Republic and the Order are one and the same," explains Eschrik. "Do not forget, Padawan, that it was a Jedi, Sifo-Dyas, who commissioned their creation to save the Republic. Clone soldiers are always ready to die for the Republic. So must the Jedi be. You would do well to learn from their example." Faetōsa puts her head in her hands. "No," she says to the ground. Eschrik tilts his head. "Do you have something more to say?"

21

"No," says Faetōsa again. "Those soldiers were ready to fight for the Republic, not the Jedi. They were fighting for the ideal of democracy – equality, fraternity, meritocracy. But as a Jedi Padawan, I earned none of those things; I was given the rank of commander by my station in the Order. With no experience! Their lives were in my hands, and I failed them." Eschrik does not flinch. "I will have you know that I have and will continue to grind whatever grist the mill requires to serve the Jedi Council, Padawan," says Eschrik darkly. Faetōsa feels as if Eschrik's eyes are boring into her very being; she wonders if she should continue to speak. Finally, thinking of what her father would say of her silence at such a moment, she takes the plunge. "That may be, Master Eschrik, but that hardly means the Jedi should be willing to throw away the lives of clone soldiers lives in fratricide – or worse, suicide. They are people, sir. Flash was a person." The Herglic scowls. "Padawan, though it may be difficult for you to hear it, the clone army is simply the means for the Jedi Council to achieve its ends," the Jedi says rotely. "But master," exclaims Faetōsa, "No one elected any members of the Council. Unlike the Republic itself, nothing about the Jedi is democratic. Why should the clones fight and die for us?" At this, Eschrik stands, and Faetōsa falls silent. "The clones fight for the Jedi, Padawan Rei, because our ends are just. You should take solace in the fact that therefore, no death in the service of the Jedi Council in war is in vain."

22

The sky begins to lighten. Though her body is exhausted, Faetōsa's mind races; something about her master's logic is not right. "How can you say that, Master? What about the Sundari boy today? Was his cause not just in his own eyes?" Eschrik turns away from his apprentice. Faetōsa senses that he is calming himself. "His death is regrettable. The Sundari's practice of using child soldiers in their wars is indeed barbaric. They should have stayed off of Garos, which is under Republic protection, and their children would have lived." The exhaustion of the day begins to take its toll on Faetōsa, and the adrenaline of combat loosens her tongue – and her prudence. "But so too do the Jedi," Faetōsa impetuously, "and the Order uses children even younger than he or I – the whole Temple is practically full of Younglings to use in its wars!" "That is sufficient!" Eschrik roars, his bellow a deep guttural roar. At once, Faetōsa knows she has pushed the limits of her master's patience, and her heart races. The Herglic turns to her and she recoils. "Because you are young and do not know what you say, I will forget what you've just said," he murmurs. "But I warn you – if you speak like a Gray Jedi ever again, there will be consequences." Gray Jedi? Where has she heard this term before? After a pause, she remembered. "The Initiate at the Temple called me that, a Gray Jedi," says Faetōsa demurely. "What does it mean?" Eschrik glares harshly at Faetōsa and then sighs, his features softening. "Let me tell you a story, Padawan."

23

"Long ago, our Order began on Tython. The first Jedi were those there who communed with a power known as Ashla, what we now call the Force. These early Jedi discovered wisdom and virtue in their good-hearted communion with Ashla. Thus, the Light Side of the Force was discovered. But those who delved into this power with wickedness and greed in their hearts fell into darkness, which they called Bogan. In this way, the Dark Side was born." The sun began to climb into the morning sky as Eschrik continued. "As time went on, the community of Light Side Force-users agreed to institutionalize their commitments to good. This organization became the Jedi Order, and at its head is the Jedi Council, who represent the wisest and strongest of our number. This body leads our Order by example of their virtuousness. As such, Jedi who do not heed the council are known as Gray Jedi. They exist between the Light and Dark, dealing in dangerous ambiguities. This is a dangerous place to dwell, Padawan. Due to your rather brash line of questioning in your time with Master Jerneja, I imagine that is why you may have been labeled a Gray Jedi by your peer." Faetōsa's mind surged. "What happened to the Gray Jedi?" Eschrik's arms cross. "The Code reminds us that '"There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.' But the Grey Jedi took their inquires too far. Now, most of the Gray Jedi have disappeared. Masters like Qui-Gon Jinn have paid for their misadventures with their lives. Others, like Count Dooku, have turned to the Dark Side. Dooku discounted the will of the Council and substituted his own ideas for their accumulated wisdom. His heresy is the cause of the war we are now fighting. We are fighting for the Light Side of the Force. The Separatists, led by Dooku, are fighting for the Dark Side." As Eschrik finished, Faetōsa had almost forgot Eschrik's temper, and she spoke without thinking. "Can there only ever be two sides in war, a right side and a wrong side?" Eschrik did not hesitate. "Yes. And the Jedi are on the side of righteousness."

24

The two Jedi are silent. Then, the major's voice comes through Eschrik's transponder. "General, good morning. My forces are in position and ready to advance." Eschrik stares at Faetōsa for what seems like minutes, but eventually he responds with orders to launch the attack. Faetōsa stands and grips her lightsaber. The master and apprentice climb the rim of the crater, waiting to join the wave of Republic soldiers crossing no-man's land. Faetōsa's mulls over what her master has told her during the night. Is this war really about defending the democratic ideals of the Republic, or is it really the Jedi getting their revenge on the Gray Jedi Dooku? How can a war and the Jedi Code possibly be compatible? A commitment to one seems to necessitate the subordination of the other, she thinks. Faetōsa ponders these questions as Major Reth appears at the crater; at his side are hundreds of clone soldiers and a handful of giant AT-TEs. "The Captain arranged for these after what happened last night," Major Reth says sadly. As the Jedi fall in with the troops, the major looks mournfully at the site of the death of Faetōsa's platoon. But there is no time to grieve. As the army dashes forward and through the enemy lines, overcoming the meager resistance of the few remaining droids, Faetōsa can hardly think straight. Her mind swimming, the Padawan abandons her reasoning over her master's story. It would have to wait. Dispatching the last of the droids and the Sundari soldiers, the Republic forces overrun the enemy redoubt. Then, almost without noticing, Faetōsa finds herself standing in an empty field facing the outskirts of Ariana. Nothing remains of the Separatist force. The battle is over.

25

Faetōsa stands on the enemy redoubt, surveying the scene. As Major Reth leads the column of AT-TEs into the beleaguered city of Ariana, the remaining clone soldiers begin to clear the battlefield of their dead and wounded. Faetōsa sees Captain Drayen conferring with several officers by a nearby gunship. Eschrik leans over the fuselage ofhis Delta 7, consulting with a hologram of Master Windu. Faetōsa decides to walk. She aimlessly meanders, but quickly finds herself gravitating to the site of Flash's death –here, she is surprised to see Lieutenant Commander Kittani kneeling in the rubble. Quickly, the pilot gets to her feet and springs to attention, her eyes glistening."Sir!" But Faetōsa shakes her head. "Kittani, listen. I may outrank you, but Iam not your superior. We both know that." Kittani is surprised, but says nothing. Faetōsa continues: "I was only following orders when I pulled rank on you yesterday. I regret it, and I hope you understand that I was just doing what Master Eschrik commanded me to do, no matter how unreasonable it was." Faetōsa looks around her. "I think you can understand that now, too." Both women aresilent for a time. "I was here when – when the soldiers were killed," says the Pantoran. "I am here looking for a friend, but I don't see much hope," says Faetōsa. The pilot stares at the scorched ground. Faetōsa walks away a few steps, and stops. "I forgive you. And I'm sure Flash would too." As Faetōsa makes to leave, Kittani reaches out and seizes her arm. "You may not have found the friend you were looking for, kid, but I hope you know that you found one all the same." Faetōsa smiles and nods, and the two shake hands. Eschrik appears."Padawan, the Council congratulates us on an excellent victory. The _Ardent_ has orders to return to Coruscant. Are you ready?" Faetōsa nods half-halfheartedly, her baptism by fire complete.


	5. Chapter Three: Asceticism

Asceticism

The exercise of severe self-discipline, denial, and restraint with respect to actions of body, speech, and mind towards worldly ends at the behest of a morality.

 _"_ _The crystal is the heart of the blade._

 _The heart is the crystal of the Jedi._

 _The Jedi is the crystal of the Force._

 _The Force is the blade of the heart._

 _All are intertwined._

 _The crystal, the blade, the Jedi._

 _We are one."_ –Jedi Crystal Code, _The Jedi Path_

 _"_ _Luminous beings are we, but temporary vessels our bodies are, and we shall all find ourselves here, in time."_ –Jedi Master Yoda, eulogizing a fallen Jedi, _The Clone Wars: "The Jedi Who Knew Too Much"_

 _"_ _Though we believe that all things are possible through the Force, as physical beings we are grounded, and our understanding has limits."_ –Jedi Master Fae Coven, _The Jedi Path_

 _"_ _There are some things far more frightening than death."-_ Imperial Inquisitor to Jedi Knight-in-exile Kanan Jarrus, _Rebels: "Fire Across the Galaxy"_

1

Faetōsa tries to calm her fluttering heart. Had it happened yet? A high pitched whine coming from the bowels of the ship, nearly omnipresent, rings on unchanged. She sighs deeply. Faetōsa sits upright on a small bunk in an even smaller room, more like a metal cupboard than proper quarters. She tries to meditate, but the walls seem too close to allow her mind to expand. She should consider herself fortunate, her mind wandering now. It is the best Captain Drayen and the _Ardent_ can offer. The ship's compliment is much depleted after the action on Garos IV and the room, humble though it is, had became available after - well, after their victory. Now the 173rd Legion was going home. Though Master Eschrik would certainly frown on it, she couldn't help but treasure this room as her own, a refuge from constant martial atmosphere of the rest of the Venator-class cruiser. Here, she has her thoughts to herself, and into this space - her space - she summons her memory of home. After Garos, she had little taste for war; unlike her master, Faetōsa yearned only for of Ty's warm embrace. Upon their return to Coruscant, she would finally be able to search the Temple and find Ty. The Padawan smiles at the secret thought. Suddenly, the sound of the hyperdrive begins to lessen, and the quiet humming permeating the ship ebbs. Now Faetōsa's heart and her legs leap in anticipation, and she rushes from her quarters. The _Ardent_ has dropped out of hyperspace.

2

At the bridge, Faetōsa mumbles impatiently as the security system computes her clearance. The doors hiss open. She practically leaps into the CIC, where through the viewport, Faetōsa is confronted with a different planet altogether than the one she was expecting. Where she had imagined spotting the Jedi Temple from orbit, picking the ziggurat out from the dense cityscape of Coruscant, instead the globe before her has an empty surface as white as the interior of a Corellian corvette. Standing next to the window is Eschrik, head bowed and hands clasped behind his back. From among the gaggle of officers on the bridge, Lieutenant Commander Kittani observes the two Jedi, each recently crestfallen. "What's wrong, Master? Where is Coruscant? Why have we not arrived at our destination?" asks Faetōsa. The Herglic crosses his arms. "Faetōsa, I've just received a message from the Council. This is your new destination," he says, pointing out the window. "But Master, I thought..." Faetōsa's brows jump. "Wait, did you say 'my' destination?" Eschrik runs a hand over his enormous protruding head. "Yes, Padawan. I do not relish the Council's decision, but it is not our place to question..." He pauses. "To question our betters."

3

Eschrik holds up a hologram imagecaster, and it flashes out a likeness of a diminutive green figure. "Mdlaren, the Council requests a full report on your victory at Garos IV. Very pleased, we are. However, a new assignment we have for you, one which will require your presence at the Temple. During this time, ideal it is for your Padawan to construct her own lightsaber. Yet impractical a trip to Ilum is, for require you here we do. Therefore, the Council would like her to train with Sage Master Val Aath; much she could learn from the master's master, yes?" The green figure chuckles warmly, but then becomes deadly clam. "Zeal, Mdlaren, must be matched with temperance. May the Force be with you." The message ends. Faetōsa feels deflated. "So I won't be returning to Coruscant with you?" Eschrik sighs anew. "You heard Master Yoda; you are to go to the surface of Hoth and train with Master Val Aath. We shall return in a month's time." Watching this exchange from afar, Kittani cannot tell which Jedi looked more disappointed.

4

"Are you sure you have all your gear, kid? We won't re-deploy for weeks, so you'd better be ready to make it on your own if things go south." Kittani shouts to Faetōsa from the pilot's chair. Faetōsa nods silently, gazing mournfully out into the swirling snow as the gunship races into the atmosphere. The snow reminds her of Pantora, makes her feel as if she is home. She almost smiles at the sense of familiarity she feels with this place, if not for the warning Eschrik had supplied: "Be wary, Padawan. That hermit has been on Hoth for many years now, all alone. Keep your wits about you." Faetōsa had sensed great unease emanating from Eschrik, something she had never felt from her master before. "How will I find her?" The Herglic had been cryptic. "She will find you." "Thirty seconds! Are we still heading to the right LZ?" Kittani's voice rings out. Faetōsa climbs into the co-pilot's seat to better survey the scene. "Yes, keep on your current course. I definitely feel something in that direction, like I've been here before." The human pilot glances at the Jedi Padawan. She is fingering a violet gemstone hanging on a necklace, otherwise hidden beneath her arctic coat and Jedi robes."You okay, kid?" Faetōsa returns her look. "Kittani, you didn't have to bring me here. There are lots of shuttle pilots." Kittani smiles and depresses several of the ships controls absentmindedly. "Don't worry about it. Besides," the pilot smirks, "what's a little cargo run between friends?"

5

Faetōsa lowers her head as the gunship's thrusters blast apart the snow drift where she stands on the planet's surface, soaring into the sky. "I'll be back as soon as I can," Kittani's voice whispers from Faetōsa's wrist transponder through the driving wind. "Good luck!" Faetōsa waves as the gunship disappears into the heavy veil of the clouds. With a deep sigh, she looks over her surroundings. She is all alone now on an endless plane of snow. The grey icy landscape seems to blend into the clouds, forming a solid grey sheet of emptiness before her. Faetōsa feels the cold cutting through her scarf and the hood of her parka to stiffen her hair, which quickly becomes a tangle of brittle fuchsia-colored weeds. A steely wind sends bits of ice and snow vaulting through the air as if in a hurry to be elsewhere. Faetōsa sighs again. What kind of life could possible abide such a desolate place?

6

Faetōsa trudges through the snow. For a moment after Kittani had departed, Faetōsa had been at a loss. Which way would she go? Then, seemingly from nowhere, a thread of light had appeared like a string suspended over the ground, bending its way over a ridge and out of sight. Figuring this Force strand was as good a lead as any, Faetōsa pursues it. She follows this wispy tendril of light perceived only through the Force past rocky crags and snow drifts. The brutal cold presses down on her chest. She shivers. It was a thin lead, but she hoped that the slim, smoky light that leads her on a winding route over empty snow-bound plains and across icy ridges will take her somewhere far more hospitable. Hours pass. Kicking up more snow with each footfall, Faetōsa's eyes begin to waver in exhaustion. Soon, all she can think to do is to put one foot in front of another. Suddenly, the light begins to fade. "Wait!" Faetōsa calls out to no one, roused by adrenaline. She begins to chase after the line of light, which recedes ahead of her like a snake slithers away from a predator. "No, no, no!" Faetōsa mutters to herself. The falling snow begins to thicken, and Faetōsa begins to sprint. But the ground begins to tilt upward in a slight incline, and before long Faetōsa finds herself standing on the lip of a bluff, sweating dangerously. The light is disappeared. "Damn," the Padawan spits at the bitter wind, turning in circles looking desperately for the luminous guide. But it is gone, replaced by white out. Plunging across the ridge at random, Faetōsa begins to despair. Night will soon be falling, and with it the temperature; without shelter she will not survive such punishing exposure.

7

Nearly an hour later, Faetōsa sinks to her knees. The wind strips away her resolve. Her desperate search is fruitless, and there is nowhere to go. Darkness is fallen. Warm tears begin to swell under her eyes, but they soon turn to brittle ice. The Pantoran looks skyward. Imagining she can see Coruscant, she begins to whisper. "Ty, I don't want to die here, alone." She plunges her hands into the snow. "Becoming a Jedi was supposed to bring me to you, not send me to die here!" she yells angrily, throwing a clutch of snow into the air in contempt, where it simply disintegrates and joins the flurries that encircle her. She kneels, gathering herself. What would her father say if he could see her like this? Looking up again, she whispers again. "I wish Flash was here. I wish you were here. I wish -" She does not finish. There, just ahead, the light has inexplicably reappeared. Rushing to her feet now, Faetōsa stumbles after it. "Wait!" she calls. Still receding, the light leads her several feet into the white snow, where it evaporates at the feet of a human figure kneeling in the storm. Faetōsa gasps. Buffeted by the wind, skin blistering in the freezing sleet, the figure appears to be sitting in stately repose. Without thinking, Faetōsa rushes forward. The frozen body is that of a small woman, shorter than Faetōsa, but far older, wearing nothing but a rough-hewn slip. By the time Faetōsa reaches her, she is unmoving. Faetōsa desperately tries to revive the woman, to no avail. Looking around her desperately, Faetōsa espies an opening in the nearby rock, and drags herself and Sage Master Val Aath inside.

8

After a long time, Val Aath awakes. A small fire burns in a ring of stones, and a Pantoran girl lies next to it, sleeping in a thick parka emblazoned with the insignia of the Republic. Val Aath looks down; she is wrapped in thick emergency blankets. With some disgust, she flings them off and stands with great difficulty. At this, the Pantoran stirs. "Master?" she says, aghast; the human woman is barely clothed, her grey matted hair growing well past the torn hemline of the canvas slip that is her only apparel. "Padawan?" the old woman parrots. "Sage Master, how are you - are you alright?" The Jedi Master says nothing, walking towards the exterior of the cave seemingly oblivious to the cold. Faetōsa stands, shivering, eyeing the woman's thin, almost sickly frame. "Master, I found you collapsed in the snow two days ago. Please come away from there, you'll freeze. Let me give you some of my rations." The woman turns back to Faetōsa. "Extinguish it. We mustn't misuse it." Faetōsa glances at the fire. "Master? The fire ring was here, so I just thought..." Faetōsa trails off. "Padawan?" Val Aath repeats acerbically, her eyes wild. "And take that comlink off your wrist too." Incredulously, Faetōsa ruefully stamps out the fire. Instantly, the cave darkens and becomes even more frigid. Tucking her communicator into her bag, Faetōsa turns to the wrinkled woman. "Master, are you...are you actually mad at me for saving you?" The Jedi Master lets out a high and hollow laugh. "A Jedi does not need to be 'saved' from her communion with the Force," she mutters. "You've only delayed me from my journey a little longer." The cave falls quiet. Turning from its mouth, the Sage Master looks at Faetōsa. "You are young, Padawan, and ignorant of the ways of the Force. As is your master." Faetōsa's mouth is agape. Val Aath turns her head. "For that is why you are here, is it not, Faetōsa Rei?"

9

"How do you know who I am?" The Padawan sits down next to the hermit, who has taken up a meditative pose on a flat shelf of ice. She is silent, eyes closed. Waiting, Faetōsa waves a hand in front of her. "Master?" More silence. Faetōsa pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her arms around her legs. The two women sit in silence, the wind whistling at the mouth of the cave. Beginning to grow irritated, Faetōsa squints sharply beneath her blindfold. "Master, how am I to learn from you if you don't answer me?" Val Aath doesn't move. "And how am I supposed to construct a lightsaber if you won't even talk to me?" Faetōsa mutters, fingering the blue saber hilt she had borrowed from the Temple hidden in the folds of her robes. Finally breaking the silence, the Jedi Master proclaims, her eyes still closed: "A lightsaber does not make a Jedi." Faetōsa countenance lightens. "What do you mean?" She says quizzically. "The lightsaber is an important tool for a Jedi to channel the Force. But it does no generate Force-energy, it cannot penetrate the Force itself, or grow a Jedi's relationship to the Light Side. Far better it to use this," said Val Aath, tapping her head. "Perception." So! Here was the first Jedi Faetōsa had encountered that seemed to own her weapon, not allowing it to own her. Imagine how floored the Pantoran must have felt, having someone finally put into words what had long been in her heart. Faetōsa smirked, thinking of what the overzealous Youngling Ubon-Jun would say to this strange Jedi Master if he were here. Or, Master Eschrik himself, for that matter: he had been so eager to charge into battle at Garos, proclaiming that the battlefield was the only place for a Jedi to prove herself. Suddenly feeling as if she was in friendly company, Faetōsa leans on her knees towards Val Aath, whose eyes are still shut. "Sage Master, I may be ignorant in the ways of the Force, but what you have just said is the first thing a Jedi teacher has told me that makes sense." Val Aath, eyes still closed, scoffs. "That is because in the Force, 'There is no ignorance, there is knowledge."

10

Faetōsa's study with Master Val Aath began soon after. This training consisted of living a life more befitting an ancient monk than a Jedi Knight. Faetōsa would rise before the sun and prepare the two a small breakfast composed mostly of defrosted wampa meat and odds and ends from her Grand Army ration kit. Val Aath would wash their robes. Afterwards, the two women would perform a series of lightsaber velocities with everything but the weapons themselves - "Active mediation," the Sage Master had told her. For her part, Faetōsa enjoyed this method of mediation, and she felt the Force flowing through her own body, not through a blade as Eschrik had taught her. The resonance of the Force within her warmed her, and after several weeks, she stopped wearing her parka altogether. There was no midday meal; instead, the two Jedi sat in silent mediation, indifferent to the weather outside. There, each woman turned over the energy of the Force channeled through each of their beings like a blacksmith might turn steel, refining and amplifying their connection to its primordial energy. Sitting in the cell, Faetōsa could feel from inside her the wind dancing over the surface of the rock above, the snowflakes impacting the ground, and - she could swear it - the occasional ray of sunlight when the clouds broke. This woman's ways was certainly proof that there was more than one way to be a Jedi. After a score of days engaged in such a routine, Faetōsa found that she was in no hurry to construct her own blade, as she had been sent here to do. She had more important things to do.

11

After many hours in silent repose, Val Aath would rise and excavate a wooden chest secreted away in the floor of the cell. From within it, the Jedi Master would extract parchment and ink, something Faetōsa had only seen in a museum on Pantora once. With such primitive instruments, the two would attempt to capture their mediation that day in visual expression. At first, Faetōsa would simply depict the objects she sensed in her mind, resulting in faithful representational sketches of Hoth's endless snow banks, ridges, and cloud cover. But after two weeks of such practice, Faetōsa found that her drawings were becoming increasingly abstract, filled with the twisting and overlapping tendrils of ink that depicted nothing recognizable. She was proud of these drawings, which seemed somehow to be more expressive than any of her early sketches. After producing these scrolls, Faetōsa would light a small fire in the cell, and each Jedi would cast the parchment into the flames. Collecting the ashes, the Master and Padawan would take them to the edge of the cave and propel them into the freezing wind with a deep breath, where they vanished into the gnashing gray teeth of Hoth's seemingly perpetual blizzard. Then, Faetōsa would prepare a dinner of small proportions -a watery stew from melted snow was with tauntaun broth most common - and the two Jedi would sit again for evening meditation. Val Aath would deliver a soliloquy on the nature of the Force, its scope, will, and its endless depths, and Faetōsa would listen. Then, the two would lie down to sleep. As Faetōsa lay her head on her pack, she reflected on her respect for Val Aath and her emphasis on her thoughtful communion with the Force through mediation. She was peaceful, perhaps even pacifist. This was the kind of Jedi Faetōsa wanted to be. Surprising even herself, Faetōsa realized that she had come to enjoy this lifestyle, and moreover, she was coming around to this mode of practicing the Jedi Code.

12

One day, as the two finished their midday meal, Faetōsa moves to uncover the wooden chest filled with parchment and ink. But Val Aath reaches out and grabs the Padawan's arm, shaking her head. Pointing, the Jedi Master directs Faetōsa to dig in a different place on the floor of the cave. Faetōsa does as she is told. After scooping away a layer of snow and cracking open a layer of ice, Faetōsa finds a metal locker buried in the hoarfrost of the cave floor. She hands it to Val Aath. The hermit woman sits on the ice and with a flick of her wrist, the locker springs open. Inside a collection of metal debris, all manner of bits, rings, and tubes, lie scattered around an old and frosted lightsaber. Val Aath retrieves the completed lightsaber hilt from the box, and hands the remaining contents to Faetōsa. The hermit examines the intact saber hilt with a frown, and then places it on a ledge in the cave. Looking back to Faetōsa, the hermit gives Faetōsa a new directive. "You must now begin to construct your lightsaber. These components are all I possess. As I cannot help you understand the mechanical functionality of the saber, you must first study and then cannibalize the saber you've brought from the Temple to complete your own." Faetōsa moves to protest, but Val Aath continues: "But I can, nevertheless, assist you in creating a synthetic core in lieu of Kyber crystal through focused mediation. I will work with parchment and ink today - you, however, must work on this task. When you have completed the mechanical apparatus, we will begin creating its crystal heart. Work quickly, Padawan. I have little time left for such distractions." Faetōsa sighs, disappointed. She had been looking forward to her ink work today.

13

For nearly a week, Faetōsa worked to complete a metal frame for her lightsaber. Between sitting in mediation and preparing meals, she worked exclusively on her saber. Beginning had been difficult; Faetōsa had no inkling how the Jedi weapon worked. Sifting through the discarded pieces provided by Val Aath, Faetōsa would furrow her brow and let out long sighs of exasperation on many occasions. Nothing about the weapon was intuitive and she received no guidance from the Sage Master. At one juncture, Faetōsa looked plaintively to the ledge where the hermit had stashed her saber; Val Aath, sitting in mediation nearby had sensed this yearning look and returned the saber to the locker and buried it again. But for all of Faetōsa's frustrations, through her dedicated labor the frame of a weapon began to take shape. She had found a functioning blade emitter and a worn hand grip from the pieces in the hermit's collection, used the serviceable power cell and focusing core from the training saber she had brought with her, and fashioned a lens assembly from a glass from the electrobinoculars in her pack. She even created blade length and intensity adjustors by mounting them on two metal buttons from her parka. And though the utilitarian functionality of the weapon proved to be far more important to the Padawan than the grace of its overall lines, by the time she completed it nearly ten days after she had begun, she found herself proud of her accomplishment. Now, all she needed was a crystal.

14

The next evening, when dinner had been consumed and night had fallen, Faetōsa had turned to the hermit to make an unexpected inquiry. "Master Val Aath, when I first arrived here, you told me I was ignorant to the ways of the Force." The human woman is quiet. Faetōsa presses on. "Indeed, from your hermetic practice I have learned to feel the Force in new ways. But you also said my Master, Mdlaren Eschrik, was ignorant as well. What did you mean?" The hermit, for the first time, becomes visibly agitated. "That Herglic boy was my Padawan." Faetōsa shakes her head. "That can't be! You two couldn't be more different!" Val Aath stiffens. "Indeed, Padawan Rei. That is because with Mdlaren, I failed. My teachings should have produced a humble, introspective, and thoughtful man. Instead, Mdlaren became nothing more than a soldier. A Guardian brute. He uses the Force as a cudgel, nothing more. So too does the Order, caught as they are in this war. My failure with Mdlaren was the catalyst that convinced me I should leave the Temple and devote myself completely to my role as Consular."

15

Faetōsa thinks for awhile. "Master, what exactly is a Consular?" "A Jedi Consular, Padawan Rei, is a Jedi who commits their lives fully to the study of the Force. We are those in the Order with the strongest, deepest, most visionary relationship with the Force. Consulars know: 'There is no chaos, there is harmony.' You can tell the Consulars from the Guardians by the color of their blades: the Consulars carry green blades, while the Guardian's blue. However, there are very few true Consulars left, and even fewer Sage Masters. Now, upon Knighthood, most Jedi choose to become Guardians, favoring the thrill of combat and adventure in the wars over the quiet contemplation of the one true Force. This is why the Order's involvement in this war detracts from our true calling of communing with Force." Faetōsa's chest swells. She felt Val Aath's words resonate within her; it was the war, after all, that compelled Ty's abduction and forced Faetōsa to become an unwilling soldier. But how could a Jedi Master say such contradictory things? Was she one of the Gray Jedi? No, the Council would never send a Padawan to study with one. But did the Council really know what Val Aath was up to in her hermitage on Hoth? Whatever the case, Faetōsa now knows what color she wanted her lightsaber to be. Val Aath continues undeterred: 'The war does nothing to extend our knowledge of the almighty Force. Instead, the Guardians have aligned the Order with the Senate, and as such, the Clone War has manipulated their commitment to the Jedi Code into a commitment to violence." Val Aath pauses. "This is to the detriment of a Jedi's true duty to achieve transcendence with the Force." Faetōsa pauses. "Transcendence?"

16

The wind reaches an icy finger into the cell, rustling the hermit's mangy locks. "Yes, Padawan, transcendence. You see, this world we find ourselves is a veil over the true source of the Force, nothing more. The ice we sit on, this cave, this planet, the galaxy, the entire universe, all of it; it is nothing more than a mask. Like a mask hides one's true identity from the sight of those who would attempt to look upon your true face, so too does this distracting world in which we live block our communion with the realm of the almighty Force. Try though we might to penetrate it, our perception, even as Jedi, is imperfect. We are rewarded for our efforts in mediation by seeing only cracks in the veneer of this reality. The true plane of the Force is an ethereal realm where all is one, bound in a singularity, perfect. This place -" the Jedi gestures around, as if her arms encompassed the universe - "pales in comparison. It is a cheap excuse for the true reality of the Force, populated only by hollow and meaninglessness things. Imagine, however, if we could move past this mask that bars our vision, to enter the plane of the Force, to truly embrace the entirety of reality. Then, we would become one with the Force! That, Padawan Rei, is transcendence."

17

The wind seems to blow colder, directly into the cell now. Faetōsa's mind seems to darken. "Sage Master, are you saying there is no meaning or value in this life?" The hermit puts her fingers together. "No, there is not. Everything in this realm of existence originates from a null spring. As result, the world is without meaning. Except," she points her finger, "where the Force breaks through and imbues elements of this world with its radiance, the world is indeed meaningless. That is why the Jedi have a duty to seek transcendence with the Force; we are the only ones can see what is truly worth sight." Faetōsa is silent. Val Aath, however, seems energized like never before. Standing, the Sage Master announces that Faetōsa will now complete her saber. Faetōsa hurriedly stands. "To complete you entry into our Order, you must construct a lightsaber. You have managed to create a functional hilt. But now you must undergo the most difficult and trying final process to complete the lightsaber: creating a crystal. As you are no doubt aware, most Jedi use crystals found on Ilum, but you will have to synthetically create one. This will require transubstance, the process of manifesting the Force as a physical object. This is how the Seth create crystals for their lightsabers." Faetōsa does a double take. "The Seth do this?! Master Eschrik told me about them, these Dark Siders. He wouldn't be okay with this!" she cries anxiously. The Sage Master ignores her. "This process typically takes weeks; however, if you can start with some other object to use as focal point, the process will go faster, as you can imbue the object with the Force rather than create it out from nothing. It will still require uninterrupted and concentrated mediation, however. Let us begin. We have not a moment to waste."

18

Following the Sage Master's instruction, Faetōsa has set aside her Jedi robes, sitting like the Sage Master in only a linen slip to purify herself for the ritual. She shivers as her skin meets the ice. However, as soon as Faetōsa lights upon the cold ground, Val Aath vanishes, disappeared into the snow outside the cell. The instinct to chase after the barely-clothed woman crosses her mind like an echo of a long forgotten thought, but instead of acting as she had when she first discovered Val Aath weeks ago, something in Faetōsa's mind galvanizes her to suppress this idea. She has to focus. Taking a deep breath, Faetōsa clears her mind, fingering her mother's necklace nervously. This feat - a Sith feat no less - will require concentration unlike any task she has ever before performed. Suddenly, she is struck by a thought. Tearing the violet gemstone from its place her neck, Faetōsa lays it gently before her. Despite being chilled to the bone, Faetōsa is ready. She places her palms upright on her knees, as she was told, and closes her eyes. Caressing the gemstone with the tendrils of the Force she commands, Faetōsa is flushed with a feeling of assurance. The gemstone begins slowly rising into the air. She enters a deep trance-like state, plumbing the depths of the Force around her. Slowly Faetōsa begins to feel as if she were underwater, immense pressure pushing down on her from all sides. She reaches out with her Force-sight, cleaving strands of the webbed energy field that makes up the world around her, calling them forward to a place of convergence in the crystal, and fuses their threads together. Faetōsa can feel the Force-energy infused in the stone, but now the already immense pressure of the ritual begins to become too much. Trying to focus harder still, Faetōsa struggles to wrap the threads of the Force around and around the stone, over and over, like a weaver might return thread to a spindle. The Padawan begins to feel weak.

19

Then, suddenly, her concentration on the ritual is broken, a horde of unwelcomed mental activity breaking in upon her mind like the fissuring of a dam. The disembodied voice of her father seems to whisper into her ear, and a flood of doubt inundates Faetōsa's mind. "What are you doing, daughter?" her father asks. "Doing as the Sage Master had instructed," she answers, annoyed; she has no time for such distractions in the middle of this ritual. "And the hermits teachings; do you agree with them?" Faetōsa is confused; yes, surely she does! Besides, the Sage Master had extended her perception of the Force for which she was grateful. And the Sage Master and her monastic life was replete with wisdom. "Perhaps," the voice of her father seemed to concede, "but daughter, do you really, truly, believe that you life was so meaningless as the hermit would have you think?" Faetōsa pauses to recall Val Aath's proclamations. _Was_ the world truly without meaning? For the first time, Faetōsa truly entertained the notion, turning it over in her mind. Perhaps the universe had come into being without meaning as the Sage Master had suggested, but the inhabitants of the world had most assuredly created some along the way. "How do you know?," the voice of her father entreats. Well, she was one such inhabitant, after all. "I feel that my life is full of meaning!" she says. Her fondness of Pantora's rugged landscapes, her valuation of the Republic's democratic ideals, the pleasure of good story, her devotion to her family, her love for Ty - all of those things are meaningful, certainly. "Does any of this rely on the Force for its consummation?" her father asks. "No, not necessarily," considers Faetōsa. No, she concludes, the Jedi had no monopoly on the meaning derived from life. "So is it the Force that imbues people's lives with meaning?," the voice ask of her father echoes from far away."No, I guess I don't think so," Faetōsa says hesitantly. "And so," says her father's voice rather smugly, "I ask again, do you absolutely believe that your life is so meaningless as to warrant your own death?" Frustrated now, Faetōsa blurts aloud into the cell: "No," she replies testily, "of course not! But what does that have to do with life's meaning?" Her father's voice ignores her angry retort. "You tell me," whispers the voice of her father bitter-sweetly, "for you are the one who has been sitting in an icy cave with nothing to wear in the freezing cold for three days straight!"

20

Faetōsa awakens stiffly. Her head is pounding. A fierce wind sweeps around her. The world is dark and cold. Sluggishly, her Force-sight slowly comes into focus. Her fingers are brittle, her hair frozen in wide flat clumps, her joints ache. The crystal gemstone lay on the ground in front of her. She reaches out for it, but is immediately halted by a searing pain. Her skin, naturally blue, has turned black, covered in the red scabs of frostbite. Her fingers refuse to bend, frozen in place. Moaning in pain, the Pantoran shakily feels her face; save for where the blindfold has covered her eyes, her face feels as if it has been boiled. Her heart begins to pound in her chest. Slowly, she traces her entire body, feeling for the extent of her injury. No length of skin feels unscathed, her linen slip providing no protection from Hoth's brutal conditions. Faetōsa lets out a small cry that is immediately swallowed by the wind raging outside. Even inside the cave, her body has been beaten by exposure. Bruised, shaking, and weak, the young woman reaches again for the crystal and her lightsaber, clutching each in her hands.

21

"Padawan!" Faetōsa looks up wildly, expecting her father. But instead it is the voice of Val Aath that calls her back to reality. "Padawan!" The Sage Master kneels down to lift Faetōsa. "You've completed the ritual. You join the ranks of the Jedi at an auspicious moment, for you and I stand on the threshold of transcendence!" The Pantoran tries to resist being pulled from the cave into the storm, but her limbs will not obey. "Padawan, banish from you the fear you carry within you!" Val Aath raves. "It is the pestilence of the Dark Side. Steel yourself with the truth of our Code: 'There is no death, there is the Force!'" Carrying Faetōsa's unresponsive body out of the cave and into the blustering snow, the Jedi Sage Master is animated by unseen strength. Faetōsa squints in the bright white light of the ridge, snow lashing her already burnt skin. As the hermit kneels to place Faetōsa in a genuflecting position in the snow, the Pantoran lashes out. "What have you done to me?" She hardly recognizes her own voice, feeble and cracked after three days of disuse. Val Aath stares back. "Done to you? You mean, what have I done for us!" she replies equally hoarsely. "Padawan, while you were completing your crystal, the most tremendous thing has occurred. I have had a major breakthrough on my journey towards transcendence. You see, I was reflecting on my description of this world as a mask that hides the realm of the one true Force. However, inspired by our conversation, I realized then that I was mistaken!" The hermit adjusts Faetōsa's frozen posture into a proper meditative stance, but her kneeling pose strikes the Pantoran less like that of a parishioner and more like that of a human sacrifice. Faetōsa tries to twist to her side, to fall into the snow and shield herself from the wind, but she is too weak. "This world in which we live is not a mask at all!" Val Aath explains excitedly, yelling over the lamentation of the wind. "Rather, it is a wall, the face of which guards the perceptual boundary between us and the almighty Force. All these years here, my mediation and exploration has been like a sledge hammer against its foundation; while I have made many fissures, I have been unable to bring this wall down fully. Then I realized, Rei! To raze the boundary between us and the realm of the true Force, we both must swing our combined wills against the wall, together!" With this explanation, the Sage Master kneels next to Faetōsa in identical posture as that which she had been found by the Padawan weeks ago.

22

Hours seem to pass. The snow accumulates around the two kneeling Jedi wearing nothing but scraps of clothing. Each woman, Sage Master and Padawan alike, is badly frostbitten. Ice clings to their limbs. Their breathing slows. The world spins. Faetōsa no longer shivers, her figure frozen as if in carbonite. Summoning what little strength she has left, Faetōsa speaks. "So this is how you plan to become one with the Force? To kill yourself, and me?" Val Aath looks ahead, murmuring quietly. "Now you understand, Padawan. Death is the only guarantor of transcendence. We are going to the other side, away from this insignificant world. Now, join your will with mine, and let us bring low this wall and achieve our transcendence!" Faetōsa bows her head. "This worthless world?" she spits, grinding her frozen teeth. Concentrating with all her might, she tremulously raises her hands to her face, peering into the Force-imbued gemstone from her mother's necklace. Into this crystal she has poured her vitality, her fervor, and her love for her home, her family, and Ty. And now she was going to throw it all away? How her anger animates her, like so many of us, to unforeseen heights of power! Opening the hilt of her lightsaber, Faetōsa shakily inserts the crystal into its core, desperate for means to escape. Suddenly, high above them, a low rumbling sound like thunder is heard. The Sage Master finally deviates, looking up, and then towards Faetōsa. An expression of disbelief clouds her wizened face. "Padawan, what do you think you are doing?" Faetōsa secures the hilt with a twisting motion. "Choosing life," she growls, and she ignites her lightsaber.

23

Faetōsa is barely able to twist the hilt of her lightsaber in time to interdict her assailant as Val Aath leaps into the air with frenzied zeal towards the Padawan. With a sputter, a ragged but intense blade of violet light rents the snowy air, impaling the Sage Master through her chest. The hermit stares at Faetōsa in shock, then peers down at the blade penetrating her torso. She falls to her knees. Breathing heavily, Faetōsa in her panic does not move. As the lightsaber vaporizes the airborne snow, wisps of steam begin to rise off the blade and into the sky where, from out of the clouds materializes a gunship of the Grand Army of the Republic. Wide-eyed, Val Aath expends her last breath. "You...have let fear...betray you. You have given yourself...to the Dark Side. I go now...to my transcendence!" Faetōsa depresses the activator, and the violet blade retracts into the hilt of her saber. Val Aath falls forward, and the hermit's body crumples into the snow and is still. The falling snow rapidly coats her corpse. Faetōsa holds her lightsaber hilt to her chest. "Thank you, mother" she whispers to it, and then collapses into darkness.

24

The intense burning of her warming skin and thawing body wakes Faetōsa. Groaning groggily and wincing sharply, the world begins to come into focus. Faetōsa can sense she is in a white room filled with beds and equipment and smelling faintly of acid. It is quiet, save for the sound of melodious beeping. Three ill-defined figures stand over her. "Padawan, be still," rumbles a deep voice. Having the opposite effect, Faetōsa frantically tries to sit upright, only to have a plate-sized hand hold her down. "You're recovering in the infirmary of the _Ardent."_ The deep and expansive voice of Master Eschrik fills the room. "You are safe now." One of the figures bows and retreats. "General Eschrik, I will leave you with your charge. I am glad Commander Rei is returned to us in one living piece. I will prepare our departure." Eschrik acknowledges Captain Drayen, and he disappears from Faetōsa's burgeoning sight. "H-h-ow long have I been here?" she mutters. "24 hours, Commander Rei. I took you here first thing." Faetōsa looks now to the other figure, a woman. "Kittani! Thank goodness. You were the one who rescued me, weren't you?" The pilot demurs. "Well, I can't take all the credit. General Eschrik was out of sorts once we returned and couldn't find your beacon signal. You should have seen him, he was besides himself. He commanded the Captain to remain in orbit for three rotations so we could search for you. Three!" "That's enough, Lieutenant Commander," Eschrik says rather brusquely. "Let us not give my Padawan any reasons to think she merits special treatment." Kittani raises her brow. "All I'm saying is it's a meaningful bond you got there, kid," she nods towards the Herglic. Eschrik stands tall, his voice overly formal. "Padawan, I'd like your full report of your two months on Hoth. How did you come to be near death in the snow? What of Master Val Aath?"

25

Faetōsa prepares to speak, but Kittani cuts her off hurriedly. "That's right, kid. When I dropped you off, you were alone, the same as when I found you. I, too, want to know what happened in between. I got to write an after action report, you know. Besides, you were equipped with survival gear and your transponder was functional, and I just as soon thought that -" Eschrik raises a hand to quiet the rambling pilot. "Please, I would like to hear it from my Padawan." A wave of relief flows over Faetōsa; Kittani hadn't mentioned the work of her violet blade on the surface of Hoth which she had most assuredly witnessed. Kittani takes a step backwards and winks at Faetōsa, departing the infirmary. The master and apprentice are finally alone. "Master, I found Val Aath like you told me," Faetōsa relates. "We spent weeks together, and I explored the Force at her side, but..." Her voice trails off. Eschrik leans in, staring at her. Faetōsa shifts in her bed. "Master, she has grown to hate the world - and herself, really, for she is an extension of it. She would have sooner killed herself than live in a world without meaning derived from the Force." She holds her breath in abeyance. How will her master take this estimation of his own master? The Herglic leans back. "So she sent you on a one way trip into the frozen wastes of Hoth, is that it?" Faetōsa nods, her lungs still caught in anticipation. Eschrik clenches his fist. "That Gray witch. Sending my Padawan off on some damn queer Seer vision quest? Sounds all too familiar." Eschrik stands, pacing. "You will never study with her again. I plan to let her rot on that hellish planet for all the rest of her life." Faetōsa is silent, deciding not to correct her master. Despite her relief at gaining Eschrik's sympathy, a burning guilt burrows into her heart. What would happen if Eschrik ever found out about what had happened? She grimaces, but shakes it off. Eschrik takes no notice. Faetōsa changes the subject. "I did finish my lightsaber." Eschrik stops. Reaching into the folds of his robes, he reveals her saber in his hands, inspecting the hilt with appreciation. "Though the craftsmanship is rather rude, it appears your time with Val Aath was not entirely in vain." He hands his Padawan her Jedi weapon. "You will need this where we are going." Faetōsa looks up. "And where is that?" Eschrik crosses his arms and smiles triumphantly. "To hunt the Sith."


	6. Chapter Four: Bad Faith

Bad Faith

When an agent regards his or her actions as conditioned by circumstances, conventions, or a morality's impositions in order to evade his or her own responsibility for choosing freely.

 _"_ _I will do such terrible things."_

 _"_ _Yes. But it does not have to be that way. The choice is still yours to make…the future, by its nature, can be changed."_ –The Son of Mortis to Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, _The Clone Wars: "The Ghosts of Mortis"_

 _"_ _Your focus determines your reality."_ –Jedi Master Qui Gon Jinn, _The Phantom Menace_

 _"_ _There are going to be Jedi that disappoint us, Ahsoka. But as long as we know there are good Jedi who fight for what is right, it makes it all worthwhile."_ –Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker to Padawan Ahsoka Tano, _The Clone Wars: "Sabotage"_

 _"_ _Kid, I've flown from one side of this galaxy to the other, I've seen a lot of strange stuff. But I've never seen anything to make me believe there's one all-powerful force controlling everything. There's no mystical energy field controls my destiny."_ -Han Solo to Luke Skywalker, _A New Hope_

1

Exertions reverberate in a small shipboard gymnasium. On a wide mat are two women in fighting gloves, going toe-to-toe. A right hook from the taller of the two sails out in a long thrust, forcing the shorter to duck to elude it. She meets this attack with a counter of her own. Back and forth their fists fly. But Faetōsa is distracted. Images of an old woman with long gray hair cloud her mind's eye. Faetōsa feels fear, hatred even. On how many occasions had she heard from Master Eschrik that those who give into fear and hatred would fall to the Dark Side, only to live twisted and evil lives? Towards the hermit, she had felt both - and both emotions had kept her alive. But now she has doubts; as she died, had Val Aath accused her of falling to the Dark Side. What did that mean, really? Was she right? Despite the hot sweat streaking down her healing skin, Faetōsa shivers. Had her time on Hoth made her more susceptible to this corruption? Indeed, she had just undergone a Sith method of creating a lightsaber crystal, only to use that same lightsaber to kill a Jedi Sage Master shortly thereafter - was she doomed to succumb to the Dark Side? Would that be her fate? Questions fly as fast as fists.

2

No answers are forthcoming to the Padawan. But an uppercut is inbound. With a smack, Faetōsa is knocked off her feet. The taller fighter spits out a mouth guard. "Come on, this is a part of your physical therapy! Show some effort!" Faetōsa remains on the mat, stretching her arms out behind her. The other woman crouches nearby. "What's on your mind?" she asks more gently. "Kittani," Faetōsa inquires quietly, "will you ever tell anyone about what you saw on Hoth?" Kittani pauses, casually throwing a towel over her shoulder. "Kid, you may have noticed that, as a Jedi, General Eschrik does not hold us common soldiers in very high esteem." Faetōsa nods. "And as a person, Mdlaren Eschrik thinks very little of me." She shrugs. "So I don't owe him anything. My lips are sealed," she says matter-of-factly. Faetōsa is still. Then, without thinking, Faetōsa blurts, "Do you think what happened makes me a bad person?" Kittani glances around the gym as if to check to see if anyone is watching. She sits solemnly next to Faetōsa. "You remember what happened on Garos?" Faetōsa remembered Flash, the explosions, and her feeling of despair. "Afterwards, I questioned myself too," Kittani said to her outstretched legs. "But in war, you act - and live with the consequences of your actions. You can't live in fear of the consequences because then you might not act at all. That'll get a fighter pilot like me killed. Better to act and be mistaken and seek to correct them than to live life passively." Kittani stands, punching the Pantoran on the shoulder in a kind of affirmation. "In the end, you've gotta forgive yourself, right?"

3

As Kittani helps the Padawan to her feet, Eschrik appears at the threshold of the gym. "Padawan, get dressed, now. I will wait for you here." Surprised, Faetōsa nods and makes for the locker room. Kittani puts a hand at her hip. "What's with the rush, General? Is there an op I don't know about?" The Jedi Knight ignores her. Faetōsa reappears in her Jedi garb, but Eschrik has already turned to leave. Faetōsa looks to Kittani; the pilot shrugs in ignorance, arms askew as if to say "Don't look at me." Darting out of the gym and down the passageway, the apprentice matches her master's long stride. "Faetōsa, we are now in orbit above the planet Drall. You and I need to get to the surface posthaste." Faetōsa's face contorts. "Drall? Why? What's down there?" "Captain Drayen has received a distress beacon from a Jedi transponder. You and I are going to the surface to investigate." The two Jedi reach the flight deck. Technicians and pilots mill about in the hangar, but make way for the hurried Herglic. From out of a gaggle of engineers comes Kittani, still in her workout clothes. "I just got briefed. I'll fly you down." Eschrik shakes his head. "No, Lieutenant Commander, you will not. You are not ready, and we have no time to waste. Our gunship is waiting." Faetōsa mouths an apology to Kittani in her master's wake.

4

The gunship slips into Drall's atmosphere. From the rear of the gun deck, Eschrik beckons to his Padawan from her vantage point behind Major Reth in the co-pilot's chair. "Padawan, while you were with Val Aath on Hoth, I received new orders from the Council. It seems that while Republic forces have been engaged throughout the Outer Rim, there have been scattered reports of confrontations with Dark Side Force-users. Master Obi-Wan Kenobi believes that these operatives, namely a woman named Ventress, is a Sith apprentice to Count Dooku. The Council wants us to try and track down this Ventress. With luck, she will lead us to her master." Faetōsa nods. "I remember Master Kenobi. I met him once." But Eschrik has already moved on. "We have a lead on Drall, where Master Kenobi's recently Knighted apprentice Anakin and his own Padawan are presently. But we have just received a distress signal from the Padawan." At this, Major Reth turns back to his passengers. "Moreover, General Skywalker's cruiser is nowhere to be found. Since we don't have intel on the situation, the Captain is going to keep the _Ardent_ off station and return by the end of the rotation. That gives you two about eight hours." Eschrik scowls at the clone officer and says nothing.

5

Beneath the clouds, night has fallen on the surface of Drall. A moon casts blue light over a forested continent and a wide open sea. The Republic gunship flies low over the landscape, where it descends towards flat land and begins to skims over a stand of tall grass. Faetōsa looks out over what appears to be a series of interlocking paddies used for some manner of hydroponics but she cannot sense any sentient life. Eshrick nods to the Pantoran, and the two leap from the still-moving ship; using the Force, they tumble gracefully to their feet amidst the grass. With its passengers disembarked, the gunship climbs into the sky and disappears into the clouds. Now Faetōsa hears nothing but the humming of insects. She takes in her surroundings: a jungle plateau leads off to the sea. Eschrik points towards rocky bluffs near the water. Nestled into a ledge in the rocks stands a cluster of small wooden buildings. "A Drallish village, no doubt," murmurs the Herglic. "Be on your guard; if Ventress is here, I want to subdue her quickly." Faetōsa stares at the horizon, and then to her master. "Isn't rescuing the other Padawan our priority?" Wading through grass that brushes up to his knees, the Herglic stomps into the paddies with a splash. "We must proceed, quickly," he mutters. The two Jedi set off towards the village.

6

Apart from the cobalt rays of light falling from the moon, the hamlet is entirely dark. Windows are boarded up. Numerous porches are filled with the debris of broken wares. Several carts and crates are overturned in the streets, their contents spilled on the flagstones. Faetōsa walks gingerly past a row of what look to be abandoned houses. Was anyone inside? Grunting to his Padawan, Eschrik gestures towards a small square ringed with cobblestones. In its center stands a hall, taller than the outlying structures, ringed by a second-storey platform. Eschrik directs Faetōsa's gaze to a window in this building; from within planks nailed across its face, small beams of yellow light emerge. The two Jedi approach. "Good evening. There are two Jedi outside your door. We wish to convene with you," Eshrick calls out, his voice ringing off the stones of the empty square. Quickly, the light inside the hall is doused. Faetōsa looks at her master. Then, a door swings opens tentatively. The Jedi climb the steps; here they are met by a short mammalian figure with a stubby muzzle and pointed ears. "Good evening, Drall," Eschrik repeats in basic tongue. The bright eyes of the Drall, his head reaching only the Herglic's knee, darts about in the street. Then he waves the two Jedi inside. While Faetōsa ducks to fit through the short door, Eschrik must crawl on all fours through the door. Inside the hall, cowering over a heap of supplies and belongings Faetōsa detects nearly a hundred other such short-statured figures. "The village!" she says aloud to no one in particular. The Drall are skittish. They whisper amongst themselves nervously in a language the Pantoran does not recognize. Some hold staffs, rakes, scythes; others clutch children - but all recoil at the presence of the Jedi.

7

The two Jedi stand in the long shadows of the hall facing the town's inhabitants, refugees in their own village. One Drall with a wide belt and sash approaches. "Two more Jedi, I see, in my town. Explain yourselves, fastly, and be gone." He hobbles on a cane, his gray fur speckled and frayed. Eschrik peers down at him. "Master Drall, my name is Mdlaren Eschrik, Knight of the Jedi. I am here to recover a Padawan of my order, who may be injured. Only then will we take our leave of this place. Where is she?" Faetōsa is confused. "Master Eschrick?" Both the Drall and the Herglic look to her. "Don't you think we should ask what has happened to the town? How we might help?" she asks. Eschrick stares at her. The Drall sighs. "I am Chashu, the Warden of this village, yes? These are my people - or what is left of them. You see, a gang of off-world bounty hunters have been threatening our village. We have been pooling our resources, paying them tribute, you understand, but they have become more aggressive, yes, aggressive." The warden strokes his muzzle in thought. "Yesterday, their leader, a woman armed with two laser swords, killed the leader of the town's watch, you know. We thought we had no one left to protect us and we gathered here in the hall. Then, two members of your order, yes, your order arrived. They drove off the woman with laser swords of their own. We were so pleased, we thought ourselves saved. But they chased after this woman all the way to the cliffs over there, yes, the cliffs, even though the bounty hunters remained, however. Their band is still here, in the jungle nearby, and they have told us that if we aid any Jedi who may appear, such as yourselves, you know, that they will return and...well, you know." Despite the trying circumstances of his tale, Chashu seems to find a measure of calm. "I've lived a long time, you see. I have seen our village through many threats. We have somehow managed to survive. But I fear your presence here will be our end. I greatly fear this. Now, you must leave before you are seen."

8

The two Jedi take leave of the warden and step away from the crowd to confer. "Master, listen to Chashu. He and his people need our help. We should stay and defend the village." Eschrik shakes his head vigorously. "No, Padawan. That is not our mission here. We must find the Padawan, who is in more need of our help. She may be injured, perhaps gravely. Our first duty is to her." Thinking of her trial on Hoth, Faetōsa shakes her head in exasperation. "Master, this Padawan is armed, has training. They can take defend themselves, but the Drall -" but Eschrik continues as if she has not spoken at all. "Moreover, if we stay here, we endanger the village further. You heard the Warden himself; he desires our departure." Faetōsa is quiet, and Eschrik, considering the matter closed, exits the hall. But Faetōsa is hardly satisfied. Looking around the hall as she follows her master, Faetōsa shakes her head. If she could somehow rationalize leaving the villagers to the whims of merciless bounty hunters, would not Val Aath's pronouncement of her Dark Side tendencies be proved correct? Summoning her courage, she wheels on Eschrik, who stands on the porch. "Master, if we stayed, we could confront the bounty hunters. Then with no one threatening him, Chashu wouldn't have anything to worry about, and we could go find the Padawan. I think chasing after the Sith woman is a wild mynock chase that risks this town needlessly." Eschrik halts and crosses his thick arms. "Padawan Rei, you must keep your feelings and opinions in check before the objectives of the mission. Never forget, 'There is no emotion, there is peace.' As a Padawan learner, that is the lesson here you must take to heart." Faetōsa moves to speak further, but the Herglic holds up a finger. "Take note, young one" the Herglic says, "that the warden's description of a woman with two red lightsabers matches what we know of Ventress. Eschrik stares towards across the bay toward the cliffs, a strange look in his eye. "You have never confronted a warrior of the Dark Side, Padawan, but I have. This is not a threat we can allow to simply escape. Her presence at large risks far more than this mere village." Eschrik turns to face his Padawan, a slight smile turning his lip. "Besides, it has been far too long," says the Herglic, fingering his lightsabers. Faetōsa looks at her master in frustration. A rising heat creeps up her face. "You are spoiling for a fight, aren't you?" Faetōsa's tone surprises even herself, but she presses on: "Ever since Garos, all it seems like you want to do is -" But Eschrik silences her with a furious look. "Hold your tongue, Padawan! Do not question me. We have no choice. Let us go. Now."

9

Faetōsa searches the face of the cliff for a toehold. She looks up, gritting her teeth. Eschrik is nowhere in sight, natural or otherwise. As they had skirted the bay and began to scale the bluffs towards the last known location of the Padawan, Eschrik had done so quickly, seemingly driven less by determination than pure desire. He had rapidly surged ahead of his own Padawan, leaving her to traverse the steep face of the cliffs alone. Faetōsa snarls to herself - like a Colo claw fish to blood in the water, this was typical Eschrik. As she climbs, her mind wanders to Ty. What would she think if she were here? Surely, Ty would have elected to help the villagers in need. That was what Ty would do because that was the kind of person she was - she cared for others before herself. If only she were here. With a heave, the Pantoran boosts herself upwards, climbing onto a ledge. Once over the edge, Faetōsa is met by an outcropping of rock large enough to host even a full-grown Herglic. Her thoughts of Ty dissolve. On the small plateau, Eshrick kneels over a prone Togruta girl. Faetōsa is surprised; though she doesn't wear Jedi robes, the Togruta sports a Padawan's braid. The girl's feet are pinned under a large stone. As Faetōsa stands, the Togruta instantly studies the recent arrival with curiosity, but Eschrik takes no notice. "Where is Ventress? Where is Skywalker? Padawan Tano, what happened?"

10

Faetōsa stands silently as the Padawan tells her story, her voice tinctured with an boldness unfamiliar to Faetōsa. "While Master Skywalker and I were chasing Ventress and her gang, she dropped this rock on me. I'm not hurt terribly, but I've been too winded to move it off. She got ahead of us, Master Eschrik, and then she blasted off in her ship. Anakin left me here, returned to his fighter, and took off, giving chase." She grunts in frustration, fruitlessly shoving the boulder trapping her. "I've got to get back to my master!" she grits. Faetōsa stares curiously at this strange Padawan. Whereas she is expecting the Padawan's words to be laced with anger at her master's abandonment, instead her words reverberate with passion and loyalty. Though she has not yet met a Jedi nearly her own age and rank, Faetōsa feels the Togruta girl illuminated by strength beyond her years. Just then, the Padawan looks back to her. "By the way, I'm Ahsoka Tano. Who are you?" The Pantoran supplies her name, but does not allow herself to be distracted by pleasantries. "Why must you get back to - Skyrunner, was it?" "Skywalker," Ahsoka says impatiently. "Because - he is my master. Who else is going to watch his back?" Eschrik has heard enough. He springs to his feet and, without the aid of the Force, shoulders the boulder off of Ashoka's legs. He offers Ahsoka his hand, but she stands on her own, limping, dusting herself off. "We must return to the rendezvous point," announces Eschrik, "and wait for Major Reth and the _Ardent_ to return. We can track Skywalker - and the Sith - from there." Ahsoka nods in approval.

11

As both the Herglic and Togruta prepare to descend the cliffs, Faetōsa holds out her hands. "Wait a minute! What about Warden Chashu and the village? If we leave, the bounty hunters will surely return." Eschrik slowly shakes his head. "You do not know that, Padawan." Faetōsa feels her frustration rising anew. "Master, you know just as well as I that we've put them at risk for enlisting their aid to help us find her." Ahsoka observes this exchange but says nothing. "While this threat is unfortunate, it is beyond the scope of our mission," Eschrik says, making little effort to hide his disgust. His sharp tenor pierces Faetōsa's heart, and she wavers slightly. She and Eschrik had often been at odds, yes, first at the Temple, then on Garos, and aboard the _Ardent;_ but never had his consternation boiled over into resentment. "Master Eschrik," she begins, but stops. Her anger at this injustice is still anger, and even if its evoked for a worthy end, her Jedi training holds that feeling anger is akin to succumbing to the Dark Side - is this what it feels like to be a Sith?, she wonders. "What is it now, Padawan?" Eschrik demands. Faetōsa pauses and gathers her thoughts. Though she knows Eschrik will not change his mind, Faetōsa is convinced that she has to try. But what can possibly buttress the resolution of someone cowed by authority? Throwing caution to the wind, Faetōsa decides to harness the anger she feels at the injustice of leaving the Drall at the mercy of violent criminals. She speaks with calculated words: "Master, leaving the village isn't what a true Jedi would do." With an expression of pure malice, Eschrik moves to confront his apprentice. "Padawan Rei, do not lecture me on what it means to be a Jedi." As he turns his back on her, the Pantoran's anger flares again. "If you won't do it, I've got to go back!" she proclaims defiantly. Eschrik wheels on her with great alacrity, but speaks softly. "Fine. Since you feel as if you have something to prove by disobeying me, go then. I will carry Ahsoka to the rendezvous point, alone." Ashoka's eyes widen in disbelief, and she makes to protest, but Eschrik continues. "You have four hours. Do not be late, my young Padawan." Faetōsa immediately kneels over the ledge and begins to scale the cliffs, moving as quickly down its face as Eschrik had moved up it.

12

Sprinting as fast as she can, the Pantoran slides to a halt in the cobble-stoned town square of the tiny Drallish hamlet. Sure enough, a gang of six bounty hunters clad in motley armor and sporting a range of weaponry rings the town hall. They jeer at the Drall cowering inside, taunting them. Without thinking, Faetōsa retrieves her lightsaber from her belt and ignites it. The mercenaries round on the noise, but it is too late; the Padawan has already begun blasting two of their number off their feet using the Force. The remaining mercenaries begin firing their blasters at the Jedi; Faetōsa nimbly deflects each bolt with her violet blade, sending two directly back from where they came, cutting down with burning wounds those who had triggered them. One of the remaining bounty hunters lunges at Faetōsa, and she lowers her blade towards him. Suddenly, the face of Val Aath flashes before her, and Faetōsa remembers what it feels like to plunge this blade through living tissue, and she is rocked by a convulsive shudder. She angles the blade away and instead coils her leg. With a massive exertion of the Force, she sends the bandit flying through the air with a Force-charged kick. Bringing her outstretched leg back to the ground, Faetōsa stares at the sole remaining mercenary, breathing heavily. He fires several shots towards the Pantoran, who easily deflects them. As she takes a step towards him, the bounty hunter yells over her head, "Your town is dead, Chashu! We'll be back, you hear me?" Hurling curses and threats at the town hall, he stumbles out of the square and into the surrounding brush and disappears from sight.

13

"Woah, nice Form VI, Faetōsa!" Faetōsa wheels around to see Eschrik and Ahsoka appear behind her. Extinguishing her lightsaber, the Pantoran is indignant. "You see? That gang of bounty hunters returned, and they'll do so again. Probably with Ventress." Eschrik glares at her. "Do not be so self-righteous. It is unbecoming a Jedi." Ahsoka, limping from her wound, gets between master and apprentice, waving her arms. "Alright, stop it you two. My master and I may not always get along," she says, looking at Faetōsa, "but you two need to stop fighting." Eschrik looms large over her, and Ahsoka grimaces, unconsciously moving towards Faetōsa's side. "Do not deign to speak to me that way, Padawan Tano. I do what I must to complete this mission. What I do with my own apprentice is no concern of yours. Now, move out." The two Padawans are silent in the shadow of the towering Jedi Knight. Satisfied he has made his point, Eschrik wordlessly stalks out of the town, heading for the rendezvous point. Offering her arm, Faetōsa helps Ahsoka hobble along in his wake. After twenty minutes of silent hiking, the three Jedi reach a clearing in the tall grass where Major Reth and a platoon of clone soldiers wait in a perimeter around a rumbling gunship. Helping the injured Ahsoka aboard, Faetōsa looks backwards the village, its streets silent and dark, and then back to Eschrik. "Do not demand what I think you are inclined to demand," he threatens, his voice icy. "Remember your place." Faetōsa bows her head in defeat as the gunship blasts into orbit above Drall.

14

Upon reaching the flight deck of the _Ardent_ , the gunship's doors spring open and the company piles out. "General Eschrik, shall we debrief the Captain?," calls Major Reth. "If we want to track Master Skywalker, we'd better jump to hyperspeed immediately." But Eschrik is already pacing off the flight deck towards the bridge. The major jogs after him, waving through a circle of technicians and pilots who approach the gunship. Kittani is among them. She finds Faetōsa, who is helping a Togruta woman disembark. "How did it go? Is this the Padawan?" Kittani asks, sizing up the wounded apprentice. Faetōsa says nothing. Ahsoka looks to her fellow apprentice, and then back to the pilot. "Yes, that's me." Ahsoka notices Kittani staring at her leg. "It's really not so bad, nothing a little bacta won't fix." Without warning, Faetōsa punches her fist. "It's not right. He could have chosen to stay." She sits resignedly on a crate of supplies, resigned to her subordination by her master. "Those bounty hunters will be back, I know it. And since I was there, they'll come back and punish Chashu and his people for aiding the Jedi." Ahsoka stares into the distance, avoiding Faetōsa's blindfolded eyes. Kittani scoffs a little at this Jedi diffidence and sits beside her friend. "Tōsa, you know how much General Eschrik appreciates people questioning his orders." She puts an arm around the despondent Padawan. "Sometimes, there is no escaping situations like this, kid." Faetōsa is still for a moment, but then jumps to her feet as if bitten in the toe. "Escape! Thank you, Kittani!" Inspired, Faetōsa runs off the flight deck, her complexion liberated from the despair of passivity. Confused, Kittani shrugs and smirks, calling "Glad to be of service, I guess?"

15

Down a corridor Faetōsa sprints at headlong speed. Captain Drayen's voice comes over the horn: "All hands, prepare for hyperspace jump." Dodging several soldiers and officers at full gait, Faetōsa turns a corner and enters a dim passageway. Inside, a bank of escape pods stand at the ready. Faetōsa looks behind her, then clamors aboard one of the pods. She sits at the controls, stabbing the dashboard to enter the coordinates for the surface of Drall into the flight computer. Then, a voice speaks from behind her: "Hey, you're not permitted in there. It's restricted." Faetōsa turns to see Ashoka, who has piled into the pod behind her, smirking. "I'm coming with you." Faetōsa shakes her head. "No. This is reckless. And you're hurt. Your master would disapprove. I don't want to get anyone else in trouble." Ahsoka smiles. "You don't know my master," Ahsoka says with a smile. She reaches past Faetōsa and hits the launch button with a clutched fist. With a violent lurch, the escape pod rockets away from the _Ardent._

16

After the tense moment upon grazing the atmosphere when the pod became little more than a metal meteorite inside a fiery inferno, the ride was a textbook launch. The escape pod had buried itself in the loam of the thick jungle of Drall. Smoking from its downward journey, it has burned a path through the canopy of trees. The two Padawans crawl out of their smoky crash site. "I landed my fighter somewhere over here, come on!" says Ashoka. The two Jedi Padawans stumble through the thick forest. Faetōsa's blood is pulsing in her ears; she had disobeyed Eschrik, her master, as dramatically as possible. What would he do when he learned his headstrong apprentice had jumped ship? Was this disobedience a sign of her falling to the Dark Side, succumbing to evil? Faetōsa resolves not to care: "I am doing the right thing," she thinks, and the consequences of doing the right thing were always simpler to reconcile in the end. At least, that is what her father had always told her. Ahead, the two Padawans soon detect flickering of orange light, and her thoughts of repercussions are driven out of Faetōsa's mind by the sense of imminent danger. They come to clearing where a Delta 7 fighter is a smoking pile of wreckage. "Aw," says Ashoka, pounding its hull. "I liked this one!" But Faetōsa is not listening. "Look! Over there!" she whispers anxiously. Ahsoka peers across the clearing at a black shape looming nearby. "That's Ventress ship! She must have doubled back and given my master the slip!" says Ashoka. Suddenly, the sound of screams accompanied by blaster fire floats over the treetops from afar. "The village!" yells Faetōsa. The Pantoran takes off sprinting while Ahsoka limps behind.

17

Crashing through the underbrush, Faetōsa and Ahsoka emerge on the periphery of the Drallish village. There, the town hall is in flames. Clutches of Drall run throughout the hamlet in panic, chased by a replenished gang of mercenaries. "No!" Faetōsa growls, taking up her lightsaber. As the Pantoran watches the bounty hunters ransacking homes, her heart twitches. This destruction was her fault. If only she had stayed, convinced Eschrik to stay as well, then - but her inner dialogue is cut short by the appearance of a tall, pale, and spindly woman with two red lightsabers. The woman sneers, a haughty look of arrogance plastering her face like a gruesome mask. She throws something to the ground. Squinting, Faetōsa reaches out with her Force-sight and gasps. The woman is standing over the corpse of Chashu. Ahsoka ignites twin blades of her own. "Ventress!" she seethes. The woman turns in surprise, and then smiles wickedly. "Tano. So good to see you again. And look! You brought a friend." Faetōsa ignites her saber and charges at Ventress.

18

With a blur of red, green, and violet, a tripartite way duel unfolds. Ashoka, while injured, glides gracefully through her sparring movements with her twin green sabers with the skill of a veteran warrior. Faetōsa struggles to keep her blade under control, barely able to fend off Ventress' rapid attacks. Ventress is unlike any combatant she has ever faced. Faetōsa can feel immense hatred and anger spilling out of Ventress with every swing of her blade - she senses that Ventress is very powerful, too powerful for either Padawan to best in combat alone. If only Eschrik were here, he would make short work of her. No! Faetōsa thinks, suppressing this thought as she parries a strike. She is tired of relying on Eschrik, tired of being too weak to stand up for herself, tired of being alone, without Ty. With a burst of anger, Faetōsa goes on the attack, lunging forward toward the Sith assassin. This earns her Ventress' full attention and her burning eyes burrow into the Padawan's being. Her crazed pupils flash - or were those the eyes of Val Aath? - and Faetōsa wonders if Ventress could sense the Dark Side in her own fear, doubt, and anger. As she locks blades with Ventress, Faetōsa studies Ventress' twisted face, her eyes narrow and blackened. Is this what Val Aath meant that she would become? Faetōsa's introspection is interrupted as she begins to sense that the wounded Ahsoka cannot keep pace in this fight for long. She is not alone in this observation, however. Ventress seizes the opportunity to dispatch her opponent: she Force-kicks Faetōsa away from the fight, sending her violet saber flying at the sudden impact. Then she rounds on Ahsoka with hands outstretched, lifting her off her feet with the Dark Side of the Force and closing in for the kill.

19

As Faetōsa rolls off her back to search for her lightsaber, her reach is interrupted as her vision pulls her gaze upwards at the sky. Leaping through midair directly over her prone form, three blue blades herald the arrival of Eschrik, another Jedi at his side. Faetōsa is momentarily memorized at the speed and tenacity with which the two rapidly close on Ventress. Ventress drops Ahsoka and raises her twin blades to fend off the two Jedi Knights. But the ensuing duel is short. Eschrik's battle prowess is evident and after deflecting her blades with his staff, he seizes her thin torso in his giant hand and, summoning the Force in his movement, throws Ventress clear through the side of nearby house. Her body shatters the thin wooden walls and in a shower of splinters, she vanishes in the collapse of debris. The other Jedi, meanwhile, stoops over the Togruta. "Ashoka, are you alright?" Ahsoka nods, cracking a slight grin. "I'm fine, no thanks to you!" The two grasp hands, and the man pulls his apprentice to her feet. Eschrik feels no similar compunction to check on his Padawan; ignoring Faetōsa, he disappears around the side of the house, searching for his prey. In the chaos, the remaining bounty hunters vanish.

20

As Faetōsa climbs to her feet and places her saber hilt on her belt, a loud booming sound emerges from the clearing behind her. All three Jedi look skyward as a black ship blasts off from the surface and, in a hasty maneuver, jumps to lightspeed and disappears. "Looks like Ventress eludes our grasp - again," says the young man, rather bemusedly. "We'll get her, next time Master, I'm sure of it," says Ahsoka confidently. The Jedi Knight turns to her and smiles. "Of that, Snips, I have no doubt." With telltale clanking of their white armor, soldiers of the Republic swarm into the village. Major Reth approaches Faetōsa. "Commander Rei! Fancy meeting you here. That was a bold insertion, taking one of our pods. I must say, Captain Drayen was a little peeved, but even he was impressed." He speaks with humor, but Faetōsa cannot be bothered. She watches as several clone medics begin stepping carefully over the fallen Drallish townspeople, searching for the living. She knows they will find none.

21

Ahsoka approaches. "Faetōsa, this is my master, Anakin Skywalker." Faetōsa bows mindlessly. "Master Skywalker." The man wrings a wry smile from his face. Faetōsa hardly believes he is old enough to have his own apprentice, but she senses a certain commanding aura about him that belies great power. "No, not a Master yet," he replies. "Between Mdlaren here and myself, it's not me that is overdue for that honorific." Eschrick has reappeared. Faetōsa looks away. "What is your...condition, Padawan?" he says gruffly. Faetōsa speaks lamely. "I'm fine." Eschrik clears his throat. "Padawan, you disobeyed my orders coming here." Faetōsa stares at her feet, saying nothing. Ahsoka steps forward. "Master Eschrik, Faetōsa and I thought this was the best course of action. We did our best to defend the town but..." her voice trails off. Eschrick looks at Ashoka. "Does your Padawan always speak so stridently to her superiors, Skywalker?" Skywalker laughs, placing a hand on Ashoka's shoulder. "Pretty much, Mdlaren. Ahsoka takes after her master, wouldn't you say?" Eschrik is motionless. Faetōsa is inundated by a feeling of shame.

22

As Skywalker and Ahsoka return to a waiting gunship along with Major Reth and the rest of the soldiers, Eschrik turns to Faetōsa. "Now that your outspoken Togruta friend isn't here to interrupt, I need you to explain yourself to me, Padawan Rei. We had explicit orders from the Council: to track a possible Sith assassin. You never seemed interested in this mission. Then, you steal an escape pod from the _Ardent_ and put us in a situation where we were forced to rescue you, putting the whole ship - and by extension, the Republic - in jeopardy. Why? Why did you disobey me?" Convinced she stands on the high ground of this argument, Faetōsa plants her feet. "Master, I did not mean to disobey you. From where I was standing, your orders put us both in violation of the Jedi Code's command that the Jedi protect others." Eschrik blinks. "Padawan, you have just fought a Sith assassin in hand to hand combat. You should now have no illusions about how powerfully dangerous the Sith are. Their kind is without a doubt the gravest threat to the Jedi, and they must be stopped at all costs. By stopping the Sith, we protect the people they would harm." Faetōsa shakes her head. "But Master, chasing Ventress did nothing to protect him," she says sadly, pointing at the body of Chashu lying still in the street. "We could have stopped it."

23

Eschrik sighs a deep and heavy sigh. "Walk with me." The two Jedi slowly meander towards the waiting gunship, the teacher searching for the words. "Padawan, we had no choice. The death of the warden and his people is most unfortunate. But it was his destiny. He told us of his own sense of foreboding when we arrived." Faetōsa stops in her tracks. "His destiny?" Eschrik bids her to continue walking. "Yes. Everyone in the galaxy has a destiny, a place that we are guided to by the will of the Force. It is useless to try and escape or elude it, for that is the nature of the universe. The Code teaches us this very lesson: 'There is no chaos, there is harmony.' That harmony guides all to their destiny; anything to the contrary would be chaos. But for us warriors of the Order, however, our destiny as Jedi is up for the Council to decide. And they have. You and I have been chosen by the Council to serve in a war against the Sith menace. You are correct: this is not and will not be an easy mission. We will have to make sacrifices." He follows Faetōsa's gaze to the body of Chashu. "His destiny was always to die at the hands of the Sith assassin Ventress. It may not be easy to accept, but it is our duty as Jedi to try to be humble before the will of the Force. Sometimes, Faetōsa, being a Jedi does not always mean we can defend the innocent, rescue deserving people, avert disasters - the Jedi do not always get to save the day." Faetōsa looks at Skywalker and Ashoka aboard the gunship, conversing merrily with the clone soldiers. "They seem to think differently."

24

Eschrik's tone deepens. "Padawan, I will forgive this indiscretion of yours today, dangerous and reckless though it was," says Eschrik. "I know how trying your experience was on Hoth. But know that I will not always be so forgiving." Eschrik climbs aboard the waiting gunship and joins the platoon. He reaches out his hand to his Padawan. "Come, now let us depart." The engines begin to roar with finality. But the Pantoran clenches her fists resolutely. She must shout to be heard over the whine of the spooling thrusters: "No!" Eschrik gapes incredulously. "Master, I think you're hiding behind the Jedi Code to wash your hands of the blood of those people!" Taken aback, the Jedi and soldiers crowded aboard the ship stare down at the girl now; all eyes are on her. Eschrik lowers his outstretched hand. "You do not want to do this, Padawan," Eschrik threatens. Faetōsa herself cannot believe her own intransigence. Why was she choosing this moment to be defiant? Trying to squelch her instinct to rebel, Faetōsa finds herself more animated than ever. She is trying to do the right thing, after all! Besides, isn't this what Ahsoka might have done? Why couldn't she? Her anger at being so conflicted swells, and she decides takes the plunge, speaking her mind: "When you said that as Jedi, we have no choice, that may be. The Jedi Code forbids us from doing all sorts of things, it takes away our ability act in all kinds of ways. Okay, but what about acting as a living, breathing, feeling, _person_? As people, we always have the freedom to choose. And it's the choices we make who make us who were are, not destiny! And you chose to let the Drall die!"

25

The audience to this confrontation on the gunship shifts uncomfortably. Major Reth gives his attention to his blaster rifle. Skywalker wears a stern look on his face while Ahsoka's eyes widen. The gunship pilot looks over his shoulder from the cockpit. "Uh, do you want me to set 'er down, General?" Eschrik shakes his head. "Get aboard, Padawan Rei. Now." Faetōsa stands motionless. Growing red in the face, Eschrik leans towards his Padawan. Raising one of his massive hands and waving his fingers over Faetōsa, Eschrik says as if casting a spell: "You have said your piece, Padawan." Suddenly, the Pantoran woman feels a cloudy sensation wash over her and her muscles go slack. She feels the world tottering, as if she has lost her balance. Then, without her volition, words fill her head. "I have said my piece," she repeats, the words springing out of her throat of their own accord. From the gunship, Ahsoka gives a violent start, her face contorted by a look of horror. She makes a start toward the Herglic, but Skywalker, wearing a grim look that betrays little of his own feelings, holds her back. Undeterred, Eschrik continues. "You are ready to depart," Eschrik murmurs. "I am ready...to depart," Faetōsa says, an expression of confusion on her face and in her voice. While she knew she had been right to resist Eschrik, why did it suddenly feel equally right to concede? Compelled by some unknown beckoning, the Pantoran woman climbs aboard the gunship, taking her place at Eschrik's side. The gunship's doors close, and the ship and its hushed passengers accelerate through the clouds and into the starry sky.


	7. Chapter Five: Submission

Submission

To yield oneself to the power or authority of another in deference to the dictates of a morality.

 _"_ _Like armies and governments, the Jedi Order follows a hierarchy to aid in the flow of command. Though we are all equals in the Force, the more senior members offer an expertise that deserves respect by those who have not yet achieved such a station."_ –Jedi Librarian Restelly Quist, _The Jedi Path_

 _"_ _Do as I say, we do not have much time."_

 _"_ _You're the boss."_ –Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi to Padawan Ahsoka Tano, _The Clone Wars, "The Ghosts of Mortis"_

 _"_ _The Council no longer exhibits tolerance towards heretics who believe they have found a superior path that runs counter to the Jedi Order's 24,000 years of accumulated wisdom."_ –Jedi Librarian Restelly Quist, _The Jedi Path_

 _"_ _Who's the more foolish? The fool, or the fool who follows him?_ -Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi to Han Solo, _A New Hope_

1

The _Ardent_ streaks out of hyperspace. The ship enters formation with two other Venator-class cruisers circling above a large gas giant. Caught in helter-skelter orbit around this planet are six terrestrial moons. At one of these satellites the Republic fleet is aimed. Meanwhile, the task force's combat air patrol surrounds the new arrival. Security must be tight for an operation such as this. Moments later, a shuttle departs from the _Ardent_ en-route to the Venator at the center of the task force. This is the scene of Faetōsa's arrival in the Pindaar system.

2

A clone soldier addresses Faetōsa: "Welcome aboard the _Hunter,_ Commander." She looks up, startled. Her mind is blurry – ever since her mission to Drall she had struggled to keep track of her surroundings. Speaking of which, how exactly did she get from the _Ardent_ to the flagship?, she wonders. She nods and murmurs her thanks to the solider, stepping uncertainly off the shuttle. She is the last one to disembark; Eschrik, Skywalker, and Ahsoka are walking towards a Kel Dor Jedi that she does not recognize. "Master Plo Koon," says Eschrik, bowing his head. "Mdlaren and Anakin. Good to see you. Ahsoka, are you well?" Ahsoka lifts her leg. "Almost good as new!" Koon looks to Eschrik. "And where is your Padawan, Mdlaren?" At her mention, Faetōsa jogs forward. "Hello," she says rather absentmindedly. Eschrik grimaces slightly, but his apprentice does not take notice. Plo Koon speaks warmly: "You must be Faetōsa Rei. Glad to meet you finally. I am Master Plo Koon, and I represent the Council here." Faetōsa bows, but scrutinizes Koon with her Force-sight. This is the first time she has met a Jedi Master and a member of the Council no less. He seems authoritative, but kind-hearted. What power he must then command!

3

"I have dispatches for all of you," says Master Koon. "However, we must not linger long." "Yes, Master, why are we here?" demands Skywalker. Koon crosses his arms. "I have gathered you here for an operation vital to this war. The Council has reason to believe that Count Dooku is using Antar Four, one of these nearby moons, as a base of operations for the Separatist war effort; it may even be his headquarters." Eschrik's complexion is suddenly animated by enthusiasm. "If that traitor is down there, Master Koon, I can best him in combat and end this war today." He moves to affix his sabers to his staff. "But we must go confront him now before he makes his escape." Koon shakes his head. "There will be a time for that, Mdlaren. We do not know if Dooku is present at his palace on Antar, and we do not want to tip our hand if Dooku is absent. Right now, the Council wishes for Anakin and Ahsoka to continue their pursuit of Ventress. Take the cruiser _Vigilance_ and track her down. If you can find her, we might learn of Dooku's whereabouts." Skywalker nods and turns to a deck officer. "Get me and my Padawan a shuttle, quick!" Ahsoka looks to Faetōsa, and the two Padawans exchange a forlorn look. The Togruta nods in solidarity, and then the master and apprentice disappear among the crew of the _Hunter._ "And what are my orders, Master? When do we go to the surface?" Eschrik demands impatiently. Koon ignores him and turns to Faetōsa. "I have a mission for your Padawan alone."

4

Faetōsa cannot tell if it is she or Eschrik who is more taken aback. "Me?" she says, astonished Master Koon nods again. "Yes, Padawan Rei. Master Yoda has told me of your unusual perception of the Force. He believes that this ability of yours will prove most useful to us today. Additionally," Koon elaborates, "your master's physiology is not exactly conducive to blending in amongst the locals." Eschrik stands stiffly, silently acknowledging this point. Koon continues: "You see, in order to confront Dooku, we must first find him. We need you to go to the surface of Antar Four and access the compound that we suspect he is using as a headquarters. Once inside, we believe there is someone who will know Dooku's whereabouts – one of his personal servants." Faetōsa is trying to listen, but her head feels like it is suffused with cobwebs. "Master Koon, will this Dooku really have a personal servant? It seems like a security liability, doesn't it?" Koon tilts his head towards Faetōsa. "Very good, Padawan. Most perceptive indeed. You should be proud of your apprentice, Mdlaren. She is an adept student." Koon places a hand on her shoulder. "Dooku, you see, is of noble birth. Servants are a symbol of his station. He never travels without them, one in particular: a Twilek named Savath. Our intelligence tells us she is here in the Antar system and that she follows Dooku slavishly. If you can get to her, you will be able to find out where Dooku is." Amid the dimness of her mind, Faetōsa finds some clarity to ask: "But Master, how exactly will I do this?"

5

Faetōsa rubs her forehead as she tries to focus. "I'm sorry, Mind what?" Eschrik sits across from her in their shuttle, hands on his knees. His eyes are glued to the floor as the ship rumbles towards the surface of the Antarian moon. "Affect Mind," he says quietly. His voice sounds like he is struggling under a great weight, but Faetōsa is too befuddled to take notice. "You may know it as a Jedi mind trick." She shakes her head. "No, I don't think I've ever heard the term." She stares at her master. Had she been mad at him recently? She tries to summon her aqueous memories, but like trying to carry water with her hands, her recollection yields nothing. "The 'Jedi Mind Trick' is a crude name for an Alter ability. Alter abilities are difficult to hone, but they are powerful." Eschrik sighs and looks towards the cockpit of the shuttle. "Affect Mind allows a Force user to temporarily discern and control the impulses, thoughts, and actions of another sentient being's will." Featosa's eyes widen. "You mean, like mind-control?" Eschrik wrings his hands; Faetōsa cannot understand his apparent anxiety. "You might call it that. It only works on those who are ill-prepared, weak-willed, or..." Eschrik stops, as if something is caught in his throat. Faetōsa glances at him. "Or those who are what?" Her master finally looks her in the eye. "Those who are conflicted." Faetōsa says nothing, so Eschrik continues. "The mind is something like a lever. We Jedi can use the Force to push it one way or another. When we use Affect Mind, we manipulate this lever in the direction we wish, winning acquiescence over the target. However, the well-ordered and disciplined mind can resist this alteration. When this happens, the lever will fall against you, and your attempt will be repulsed." Faetōsa's head is swimming. "But Master Eschrik, how will I know how to do this?" Eschrik squints. "It is not so much unlike how you use the Force to see, I would image. You will know." Faetōsa moves to reply, but she has little time to contemplate the problem as the pilot of the shuttle calls over the intercom: "Touchdown in thirty seconds!"

6

The two Jedi step off the shuttle in a largely vacant spaceport. Rusted buildings sprawl across the city, creating a skyline that looks more like landfill than a proper town. Several bored-looking droids scan the ship, and move along without ceremony. No living beings are in sight. Eschrik hands his Padawan a cloak to disguise her Jedi apparel. "Make your way through town to the estate. I will await your return here," he says sullenly. Faetōsa looks back at her master. "Master Eschrick, you know I didn't ask for this solo mission. And I'm not sure I can complete this Affect Mind ability. Let's go back and talk to Master Koon. Maybe there's another way we can do this together." Eschrik shakes his head, scanning the horizon. "Nonsense, Padawan. You will complete this mission as Master Koon and the Council have ordered. I will play my part and wait here unquestioningly." Faetōsa feels rebuffed and a wave of abated animosity towards her master seems to wash over her. It almost feels familiar. But why? She takes several steps away, but looks back at Eschrik. "Master," she asks darkly, "what will happen to Savath if the mind trick is successful?" Eschrik recedes into the rear of the shuttle. "For the disciplined mind, there are none."

7

Faetōsa clings to the folds of her hood, drawing it closer. Her blue skin draws several stares from several mangy Gotals, natives to the Antar system, who ply the interior streets of the sun-baked city. But apart from this marginal recognition from a few shopkeepers and idlers, the inhabitants of the quiet town ignore her presence. Under her cloak, Faetōsa grips her lightsaber. If the Count is here and something goes awry, not even Eschrik can rescue her without blowing their cover. This is enemy territory and there are no reinforcements for her to call upon. The Pantoran presses on, passing through poor neighborhoods, rundown commercial zones, and rusting smelters. What had happened to the people of Antar to have been condemned to such crippling poverty? Through the winding and empty streets, the Padawan's head begins to clear. Come to think of it, what had happened to the people in the other village – the one on Drall, wasn't it? Faetōsa searches her feelings. Imagine trying to recall the faintest memory from your own childhood, only for the foray to provoke nothing but doubt that the memory had ever existed in the first place! This sensation is similar to Faetōsa's concerted efforts, and try though she might, she cannot remember anything about what had happened in Drall. Rebuffed from her own mind, Faetōsa shakes her head in frustration. Why could she not remember? Sensing how fruitless her inquiry is, she tries to focus on pacing clandestinely towards the looming industrial palace in the heart of town.

8

The palace stands in the center of the industrial district which is composed of a motley collection of ill-used factories and forgotten refineries. The palace might have well been from another world; glittering black steel walls with shimmering glass windows of many colors stretch into the sky, offering a commanding view over the town. High walls funnel visitors towards a gate where two IG-100 droids stand sentinel armed with electrostaffs. This is the only way inside the compound, and Faetōsa takes a deep albeit stuttering breath in preparation of her passage through it and into the gleaming stronghold. Stepping into a side alley, Faetōsa lifts her comlink to her arm. "Master, I'm in position. I will contact you from the inside." The channel is silent. Faetōsa pulls the sleeve of her cloak over the comlink and steps out of the alley and towards the gate. Her adrenaline burns away the last of the lingering fog in her head. The droids cross their electrostaffs, barring her entry. "State your business," they say simultaneously. The Pantoran tries to look timid. "I'm here to find my cousin, Savath. She got me a job as a servant in the palace. Today is my first day, and I am already late, so please let me pass." The droids pause for a moment before allowing her to enter the walled courtyard. Faetōsa holds her breath. Noticing the Pantoran eying the grand staircase leading to the palace, one of the droid points to a tiny rusted door in a shadowy corner. "The scullery. Proceed directly there." Faetōsa nods and scurries towards the door. It opens, and she ducks inside, exhaling.

9

The door leads to a small passage that opens into a grimy kitchen. Sinks, plates, and various appliances line the counters; food scraps and dust intermingle in the air. Several culinary droids prepare food and place it on a long table near an interior door. Leaning against the wall, Faetōsa watches as the door opens and what looks to be wait staff in simple but clean finery step inside to claim the various dishes before returning to what she assumes is the palace proper. The Pantoran watches from the shadows of the hall for several minutes as the food is delivered by Gotal, human, and Twilek servants, trying to discern a way to reach the door without notice. Her surveillance is cut short, however, when a voice splits through the bustle of activity: "And who are you and what are you doing in my kitchen?" Faetōsa steps out of the shadow of the small passageway to face a thin irritable human man; he sports a pointed goatee and is wearing finery similar to the staff but with additional embellishment. "Speak, girl, I don't have all day!" he says. Faetōsa clears her throat. "I heard you needed extra help. I am here to, uh, join the wait staff." The man grins humorlessly behind beady brown eyes. "A blind girl as a page on my staff? How absurd! Be gone, girl, I've work to do." Faetōsa is not expecting such hostility, and she does not move. The man stares at her. "Did I stutter? Go. Now!"

10

Closing her blindfolded eyes, the Padawan reaches out with the Force. Threads of illumination materialize as if summoned from thin air and paint his silhouette with light. His form becomes vivid in her mind and the man stands out from the scene of the kitchen with greater fidelity. She can see him well, but how to enter his mind, exactly? Both Master Koon and Eschrik had told her that she would know the way once she tried but she was at a loss. Still, the Force seems to know the way, and with a short intake of breath, Faetōsa watches as the tendrils of light begin to penetrate him, forcing their way into his mouth, ears, and eyes. Then, suddenly, she feels connected to him, linked as if one. She feels him resisting. Like a bucking animal on the end of leash, Faetōsa feels the pull of a will not her own as if it were an extension of being. She shudders at this new appendage she has acquired and commands the threads of light to bury themselves deeper in him. She flinches in disgust as she struggles to hold down this man's will. Though he was exerting every inch of his power to resist the invasion, Faetōsa could slowly begin to feel that she was winning this contest. Indeed, the Jedi Mind Trick was taking control.

11

Then, the kitchen is gone; the palace evaporates. The walls disappear and the floor is replaced by blackness. Suddenly, out of the dark Faetōsa finds herself facing a giant brown eye. Larger than a sun in the sky, Faetōsa nearly gasps at the sight of the monstrous pupil. Blinking – was it her own eyes, or his? – Faetōsa finds herself in a flash standing on the eye – rather, _in_ the eye itself. The convex shape of the lens slopes over her like a dome. Where was she? How did she get here? Bewildered, she scans her foreign surroundings with her Force-sight. She gasps. Standing on the other side of his own iris is the man whose mind she has entered, staring at her with listless blank white eyes. He stands without any of his finery or clothes of any kind. As Faetōsa blushes at the man's nudity, the eye-dome quakes. She is losing focus. Trying not to stare at the man, Faetōsa fights to decide what to do next. So this is what the interior of one's mind looked like. Faetōsa shivers.

12

Before she can act, the far side of the iris begins to rise underfoot. Faetōsa feels her feet slide out from beneath her. She glances behind her to see nothing but blackness waiting where she will inevitably fall. Reaching out her hands in fear, she tries to grasp some part of the flat surface upon which she stands but to no avail. The iris is inconvertibly tipping as if on an unseen fulcrum, raising the man above her on the high end of its slope. Then all at once, Faetōsa finds herself sliding down into the blackness. "No!" she yells, and reaches out in desperation toward the man with the Force. Suddenly, the iris ceases its movement, and rapidly begins to level. She feels a weight she hardly noticed prior begin to lift and she is able to get to her feet. Standing quickly, she raises both hands and extends them with the Force in the direction of the man. The iris begins to rise now, this time at the opposite angle, and the man that begins to sink. She recalls Eschrik's words: "The mind is like a lever, Faetōsa." She continues to push until the iris reaches such an slope that now it is the man's turn to fall; he slides off the inclined plane and vanishes into darkness. Relieved, Faetōsa knows she has won the contest for the man's mind. But now she loses her grip and her stance collapses. She begins to slide downward as well, following the man she had just dispatched from his perch into the furthest recess of his own mind. "No, wait, no, not this way!" she screams, unable to forestall her own descent into blackness.

13

She lands with splash in what seems like a subterranean lake. Standing chest-deep in the inky depths, Faetōsa breathes heavily, fighting for air. Spinning in the water, Faetōsa tries to get her bearings. Where she is now, she cannot say. Stranger still, upon the surface of the water float largely milky white bubbles, spherical globes several feet tall that emit a flickering light like a hologram screen does when it displays moving images. They sway and bobble like buoys on a receding tide. Faetōsa begins to wade around them, nervous to touch such bizarre objects, but she quickly becomes enmeshed. There are simply too many such globes floating on the surface of the black lake to avoid. As they close around her, she finds herself strangely drawn to them, her instinct to avoid them growing as futile as resisting the urge to read the title of just a single book on the shelves of a vast library. One such globe begins to bear down on her and she finds herself passing willingly through its membrane. Closing her eyes, the bubble sucks her inside. When she opens her eyes, the world is quite different. She is standing in a field, perhaps on Antar Four, with a human woman. The woman is shaking her head. "Qil, I cannot marry you," the woman says, looking directly at Faetōsa. The Pantoran looks behind her but sees no one. She stares at her arms, her blue skin replaced by pale white. Then, a feeling of sodden despair envelopes her. Cannot or will not marry? "You know I am already promised to Telath," the woman chides. Faetōsa then feels a boiling rage well from within herself. Promised to Telath? The intensity of the feeling sends Faetōsa staggering backwards, and the woman in the field disappears as Faetōsa finds herself again wading in the black lake of faintly glowing bubbles.

14

Faetōsa escapes from this globe only to be immersed in second. This time she is in a dark alleyway. She holds a metal pipe, and with all her might, she brings it down on the bleeding head of a Gotal man. Without thinking, Faetōsa yells "Die, Telath!" She feels a bittersweet pleasure as she beats the whimpering man to a pulp. The blunt force of the pipe seems rather inefficient – perhaps a lightsaber would make shorter work of Telath. Reaching for her belt, she finds no Jedi weapon on her hip. Then, she remembers – she is not really in this alley, she is not really beating a man to death, she is not really Qil. Horrified, she closes her eyes and shakes off the memory. How was this happening to her? She takes two steps forward and escapes this globe, wading through the black lake in a different direction only to be sucked into yet another bubble. This time, she is in the kitchen of the palace, standing over a woman in servant's finery. Her fists burn as she beats the woman, repeatedly landing blows on her. With each fist fall, Faetōsa feels no pleasure, but pain, anguish, and embarrassment that is not her own, yet these emotions somehow seem to be grafting themselves into her own thoughts. Faetōsa is appalled. "This isn't me!" she yells. Surging forward, she escapes from this memory, finding herself once again amidst the black lake. Terrified and exhausted, she finds that the black fluid is dragging her down, less like water now and more like a quagmire. Faetōsa uses ever ounce of strength to stay afloat, to retain her identity, but her resistance is short. As the black oil pulls her down, she loses all sense of herself as she begins to drown in the black fluid. Her very being submerged, she is gone.

15

With a start, Faetōsa finds herself standing in the palace kitchen. She takes a surprised step backwards, falling into several boxes, sending them scattering into chaos. The head of the kitchen staff, Qil, stands mutely in front of her, a glazed expression in his eyes. The kitchen staff stares at Faetōsa in astonishment. All that has transpired in Qil's mind – the iris, the black lake, the memories – must have elapsed in mere seconds. Faetōsa looks at the man and feels all of his internal emotions – defeat, anger, suffering – overwhelm her. Imagine the burden of feeling the tumultuous emotions of not one but two people at once. So many of us can hardly process our own feelings, let alone those of another! "I can't do this!" she cries, getting to her feet. She dashes out of the kitchen and into the passageway, tears streaming down her face. As she flees into the courtyard, Faetōsa barely hears the man's stilted and monotone voice announce to no one in particular: "I can't do this."

16

Faetōsa slows herself as she walks sheepishly past the droid guards but then sprints away from the palace without remorse. She finds a hiding place in a nearby alley and crashes against the wall, overcome by sobs that are not entirely her own. One part of her own mind knows that the emotion that now overcomes her is the parasitic echo of the mind she had just invaded. At the same time, she can no longer discern which emotions belong to her. She can only relive overcoming the man's will, forcing herself inside him. A burning sensation overcomes her, and she vomits in the street. Her chest heaving, she hails Eschrik on her comlink. "Master, I-I've failed. I can't do this. I'm requesting extraction." Eschrik's voice replies in concerned: "What is wrong, Padawan? Did Dooku learn of your presence? Is the mission compromised?" Faetōsa says nothing, managing only to stifle a sob. Eschrik's tone hardens. "Faetōsa, are you injured?" "No," she murmurs. "Were you discovered?" "No." Eschrik's voice reverberates with authority as it fills the dingy alleyway: "Did the Affect mind fail?" The answer is no. "Then my answer to your question is the same: there will be no extraction. You must continue the mission. That's an order." Against the wall of the alley, Faetōsa slides to the ground.

17

"Please don't make me do this," Faetōsa pleads. " It's too much, please. I cannot bear all the pain." Eschrik pauses, as if not knowing what to say. Then: "Faetōsa, we all have varying sensitivity to the feelings of others. Now you see why the Jedi Code reminds us that 'There is no passion, there is serenity." Faetōsa now experiences a rising flood of frustration and futility that she knows with confidence actually belongs to her. "Master, there must be another way. I can just sneak in, perhaps deliver a fake message, or eavesdrop to get the information –" Anything that does not require her to overturn and experience another's mind, she thinks desperately. "This mind trick – its wrong," she says furiously. "Its manipulative. It's immoral. Its obscene." Eschrik is silent. The comlink is quiet. "Master?" Then, her imagecaster springs to life. An image of Master Koon appears in the hologram. He is clearly displeased. "Padawan Rei, from your perspective, Affect Mind may appear problematic. You must silence these feelings of doubt. Your superiors see the long view that you, in your youth, cannot. We need you to not substitute your vision for ours, but rather to accept it. You must do as the Council says." The image is replaced by Eschrik. "Padawan Rei! Be strong. Not only can you do this, but you will do it. Go now. Do not jeopardize our mission. The outcome of this war may hang in the balance."

18

Faetōsa walks languidly towards the palace. Something inside her feels broken. She is resigned to her fate; there is no use fighting Eschrik or Koon. There is no way to escape their will. On returning to gate, Faetōsa seizes a bundle of fruit from a nearby shuttered stall. As she approaches the gate unable to halt the rivulets of tears involuntarily welling from under the blindfold, the droids espies her. "I see that you now work for Qil, girl," says one in what seems like a humored tone. "Carry on." She passes through the gate and opens the small door to the kitchen. Taking a breath in the passageway, she steps into the kitchen to confront Qil. The overseer swivels to look at her. He looks as if he has just awoken from a long sleep. "Who are you and what are you doing here?" he says as if he has never seen Faetōsa. With a wave of her trembling hand, Faetōsa commands the Force to open his mind for a second time. "You will call Savath here." The man mindlessly repeats, "I will call Savath here." Faetōsa slumps forward, the burden of the invasion weighing heavily on her. Qil bellows: "Savath! Come here at once!" Moments pass. A Twilek girl in servant's finery appears and stares at Qil in trepidation, a slight bruise above her eye bright green eyes. Faetōsa's heart pangs in sympathy at her piteous appearance, but she does not pause; instead, she beckons Savath into Qil's office, using the Force to compel him like a marionette to await their return outside. Savath acquiesces, and Faetōsa closes the door behind her.

19

"W-w-who are you? What do you want with me? Please, I must get back to work," The Twilek girl implores tremulously. Faetōsa speaks hurriedly. "Listen, Savath. I need to know whether Count Dooku is here. Can you tell me?" The Twilek shakes her head vigorously. " If my His Excellency finds out I've been talking about his whereabouts behind his back, Qil will punish me...No, I will not speak with you." Now it is Faetōsa's turn for exasperation. "Savath, I'm trying to help you!" But it is too late; the moment for cooperation has passed, and the girl turns to leave the office. Faetōsa reaches to grab her arm but Savath shirks away. The girl moves for the door but she stops in mid-stride. Faetōsa fills her mouth, ears, and eyes with threads of light, arresting her movement and opening the servant's mind. With a flash, Faetōsa finds herself standing on an emerald iris across from an unclad Savath, but unlike her experience with Qil, this plane is already inclined in her favor. Faetōsa knows what to expect now, and she reaches out with the Force, expecting a distasteful battle of wills. But the plane of the iris immediately responds to the Jedi's manipulation, and Faetōsa can sense that Savath's will is already weakened. It is as if someone has already broken her spirit. She wins the battle for the balance of Savath's mind quickly, immediately sending the mental figure of Savath sliding off into darkness. Faetōsa tries to forestall her own falling down the inclined iris, but she cannot resist her inevitable sliding descent into Savath's sea of memories. Faetōsa steels herself for the plummeting, and splashes her way into a now familiar black lake cradling globular spheres of tragedy.

20

Faetōsa is in an wet alleyway, three shadowy men hovering over her. Faetōsa looks down; she is standing several feet off the ground. Rain is pouring into the street, but it does nothing to dampen the pyre of burning dread welling within her. One of the men moves forward and pulls a blaster on her. The fire within crackles. Then, another figure intercedes from behind. "Father!" Faetōsa calls out. The blaster reports, and her father falls dead. "No!" she screams, a curtain of despair falling upon her. She feels the men advancing toward her, picking her up off the street. Faetōsa has no time to resist before she is plunged into a different scene, this time inside a discolored club washed with pulsating neon light. Other Twilek girls dance nearby, and a dour woman with a sharp nose prods her with a strap. "You'll dance like the rest of 'em, I promise. Now, show me or else!" she menaces. Faetōsa feels pure humiliation as she begins to gyrate on a raised platform, which is met by cheers and jeers. "Please stop," Faetōsa begs, falling forward into a new kind of hell. She finds herself on her back now, wearing the finery of the palace. The image of a man comes into sharp relief, a man straddling her. Her pulse quickens. "Get off of me!" she tries to yell, but no words come out of her mouth. The man reaches a calloused hand into her blouse, causing Faetōsa's face to flush, her insides to boil, and her skin crawl. She is frozen in terror as the man presses himself against her, a crazed look in his brown eyes – it is Qil, sneering in sick pleasure. Faetōsa shuts her eyes, falling backwards from the memory into the water of the black lake, this time seeking out rather than avoiding the inky depths to drown her sorrow.

21

The Pantoran collapses on the ground in the office, breathing as if she has just endured a long race. Her own anxiety mixes with the reverberations of the Tile's undeserved shame. Savath stands still, blinking. "What happened? Who are you?" the girl asks plaintively. Compulsively, Faetōsa springs to her feet and embraces her in her arms. "Someone who wants to help you." The girl cautiously wraps her arms around the Pantoran girl. With unexpected determination, the Padawan announces, "I'm going to get you out of here." Savath looks unsurely at Faetōsa, but nods. Faetōsa casts off her cloak and retrieves her lightsaber from her belt, the searing pain and crippling sorrow that she has tasted from her foray into Savath's mind now replaced by an indefatigable resolve that is tinged with a biting anger. Instantly, the girl recoils. "I'm not going to hurt you, I promise. Will you come with me?" Savath shakes her head, crying now. "Qil will find out! Then Dooku will come for me!" she sobs. "No, I won't let that happen," growls Faetōsa. "I can get you out of here, maybe even get you to Coruscant." The girl's eye light up, and she nods enthusiastically. "My sister lives there!" Faetōsa nods in return and places both hands on Savath's shoulders. "But before we go, I need to know something," Faetōsa whispers. "Is Count Dooku here, in the palace, right now?" The Twilek nods. "He is," she mumbles. "Good!" Faetōsa says acerbically. Taking Savath's hand, the two young women steal from the office. As they pass Qil standing dumbly outside the door, Faetōsa cocks back her arm and smashes the face of the petty tyrant of the palace kitchen with a Force-assisted blow in some pittance of retaliation for his trespasses. Qil's head strikes the wall with great force and a streak of blood marks his fall and as Savath turns to watch her one-time assailant crumple to the ground.

22

The two young women run for the gate. When the droid guards turn to stop the two fleeing servants, Faetōsa ignites her lightsaber and, with a violet blur, cuts them down before they can activate their electrostaves. "Follow my lead," Faetōsa tells Savath firmly, her former wavering dispelled by her sense of justice. Together Faetōsa and Savath run through the streets of the crippled city at full tilt, through empty streets, away from the palace, racing to the shuttle where Eschrik awaits. As they approach, Faetōsa sees that the cargo doors are open, and her Herglic master is sitting in a meditative pose as he had done in the crater on Garos. The sound of their footfall ends his reverie. "Dooku! Did you find him?" Eschrik says, his eyes flying open. Faetōsa looks him up and down; he seems distracted, pained even. "Is Dooku at the palace?" he asks, seizing his lightsabers. "No," she says instantly. "He is off-world right now, travelling with the Separatist fleet. Savath says he is not likely to not return here." Eschrik absorbs this information, and then punches the wall of the shuttle with a rattle. "Then this mission was for naught," he seethes. As Eschrik leans an arm against the hull of the shuttle, Faetōsa detects on his shoulder a scar from an injury she has never recognized. "Let us return to the _Ardent,"_ Eschrik finally says, unable to conceal his disappointment.

23

Aboard the cruiser, Master Koon greets the Padawan. "You have done well. You've proven to be a strong and capable Jedi, Padawan Rei. I am sorry that you were unable to find Dooku here." The Pantoran is not listening. "This is Savath," she says. "She needs asylum. She needs to go to Coruscant as soon as possible." Koon stands erect. "Sadly I cannot take the _Hunter_ back to the capital yet; we must be going on our war patrol." Prepared for this answer, Faetōsa sums up her compassion for Savath, her anger at Qil, and her long-neglected affection for Ty (who she needed now more than ever) and projects these feelings on the Twilek girl standing at her side. In her Force-sight, she sees the girl begin to softly glow. Faetōsa is exhausted; this light, dim though it may be, will have to suffice for this bluff to work. "Master Koon, I think Savath may be Force-sensitive." Master Koon reaches out a hand toward the girl as if feeling the heat thrown off by a fire, and Savath flinches. "My, my, your perception is very keen indeed, Faetōsa. She very well may be. I may be able to find my way to the Temple sooner rather than later. As for you, Savath, can you tell me where Dooku is now?" Savath looks to Faetōsa, who says nothing. "I think – I think I overheard that the Count may be with the Separatist fleet, heading toward...toward Fondor." Master Koon turns to Eschrik. "Then you and your Padawan must go there and track him down. Prepare yourselves well – you may be gone for some time. May the Force be with you." Faetōsa approaches Savath. "Savath, when you get to Coruscant, can you deliver a message to a Pantoran Jedi named Tynaki? Tell her that Faetōsa is well and is looking for her." Savath's look of bewilderment turns to excitement. "I'm going to Coruscant? My sister lives there!" Faetōsa's eyes narrow. How had Savath forgotten their arrangement so soon? But Savath hardly notices; she excitedly takes Faetōsa's hand. "When I find my sister, I promise to deliver your message. Thank you for all you've done for me, Jedi."

24

Eschrik and Faetōsa head towards a gunship that will take them back to the _Ardent_. Yet Eschrik stops well before it. "Padawan, I know that this mission was difficult for you, but –" Faetōsa cuts off her master's lecture. "But I let my feelings unjustly cloud my judgment. 'There is no emotion, there is peace,' I know. I know the Code. And I know that the authority of you and the Council is absolute. I apologize for my moment of weakness when I challenged you. Won't happen again," she recites the lesson that she believes he wants to hear. "I see now the wisdom of following orders, especially in moments of doubt. Forgive me." She finishes. Eschrik smiles, clearly relieved. "You see, I knew you could do it." Master and apprentice take their seats on the gun deck, and watch Master Koon talking to Savath as the doors to the gun deck begin to close. The Twilek seems bewildered and unresponsive, overwhelmed by her surroundings. "A symptom of the Affect Mind," gestures Eschrik. "She will gradually remember what happened, do not worry. For now, she will be fine in the care of Master Koon." Without warning, Faetōsa feels her skin begin to crawl. Blood drains from her face. She remembers now.

25

With a start, she leaps out of the gunship. Eschrik calls after her, but she does not stop. She races to the Twilek girl. As Master Koon turns away to talk to an officer, Faetōsa pulls Savath away. "Savath, listen to me very carefully. Forget my message. Do not go to the Temple. Find your sister. Do you hear me?" she whispers hurriedly, glancing at Koon. Savath stares fearfully at the Pantoran. "As soon as you get to Coruscant, run. Run as fast as you can. Promise me!" She nods incoherently. "I promise." Koon beckons for Savath, and the Twilek glances nervously back at the Pantoran. Faetōsa slowly paces towards gunship where Eschrik awaits. "Padawan, come now! You and I have a Sith Lord to track!" he says triumphantly, his cloudy mood now lifted. As his Padawan approaches, Eschrik cracks a grin and reaches out his hand. She has seen this sight before. With a flash, all of the details of their mission on Drall flood into her mind. Her face pales. Eschrik had used the Affect Mind ability on her. That meant he had been inside her mind, had battled her will embodied as her naked spirit, seen everything in the black sea of her memories. Her stomach turns to stone. If Eschrik had similarly reached into her mind, did that mean that he knew about Ty? If the Jedi learned of her true feelings for Ty, what would they do? Would they banish her from the Order? Attachment, passion, commitment - all of these forbidden sentiments are what drove her to become a Jedi and to be with Ty in the first place. Mortified, she stares at Eschrik. He frowns. "Padawan, what is the matter?" "Nothing," she lies, climbing aboard quickly and sitting nervously next to the man who had overthrown her will and seen into her mind. Eschrik puts his hand on Faetōsa's tensed shoulder, and she cringes. "When we find Dooku, I will be proud to have you standing at my side. I already am." The young Pantoran woman quivers at the thought. 


	8. Chapter Six: Sacrosanctity

Sacrosanctity

That which is regarded by a morality as too important or valuable to be interfered with.

 _"_ _How we conduct war is what distinguishes us from others."_ –Jedi Master Obi Wan Kenobi, _The Clone Wars: "A War on Two Fronts_

 _"_ _Cover me. I am going to have to concentrate."_

 _"_ _Concentrate? Concentrate on what?"_

 _"_ _Bringing that building down."_ –Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker to Padme Amidala, _The Clone Wars, "Gungan Attack"_

 _"_ _A Jedi must have the deepest commitment, the most serious mind."_ –Jedi Master Yoda to Luke Skywalker, _The Empire Strikes Back_

 _"_ _Jedi do not fight for peace. That's only a slogan, and is as misleading as slogans always are. Jedi fight for civilization, because only civilization creates peace. We fight for justice because justice is the fundamental bedrock of civilization: an unjust civilization is built upon sand. It does not long survive a storm."_ –Attributed to Jedi Master Mace Windu, _Shatterpoint_

ONE YEAR LATER

1

Clouds waft lazily over the face of the sky. Long stalks of prairie-grass bob in the slight breeze. The soft chirping of insects rises and falls. Outstretched in the grass behind a copse of large white stones lies a young Pantoran woman, the shade of her blue skin in pleasant contrast to the orange grass that shelters her. Though the fading sun is still high enough in the sky to divert the gaze of most of the other farmhands, Faetōsa allows the sun's rays to warm her unadorned face. She tucks her arms behind her head, chewing a strand of straw. She sighs deeply, taking in the warmth of Lothal's sun. How peculiar that a fruitless year of pursuing Count Dooku throughout the Outer Rim territories had brought her to this sparsely inhabited yet paradisiacal planet. Mere rumor of an impending visit by Dooku to Lothal's Provincial Governor in an effort to compel her to defect to the Separatist cause was enough to convince Eschrik to send his Padawan on a solo mission: to live undercover on Lothal in an effort to collect intelligence on such a rendezvous. Faetōsa adjusts herself in the grass. Her mission on to this planet had allowed her to live normally – insofar as it was possible for a Jedi – with normal people, doing normal things. While Dooku's whereabouts dominated Eschrik's every waking thought, the both he and the _Ardent_ were far away now, leaving Faetōsa largely to her own devices. For the first time in a long while, Faetōsa is content.

2

After a time, the sun finally begins to slip behind the horizon. The galaxy's billions of stars begin to emerge in the twilight. Her arm pointing upwards, Faetōsa drags a finger lazily across the vault. Around which of these stars does Pantora orbit?, she thinks. She stops at random, choosing a star with pretend determination. "That must be the one," she says aloud, grinning. She lets her hand fall to her chest. With another sigh, she reluctantly terminates her reverie and , surveying the fields where she had been at work an hour before. Several tired-looking droids wander from their work towards the agricultural compound. Faetōsa follows in their wake. As she wades through the grass towards where she sleeps in the farm's service shed, Faetōsa shakes her head, laughing to herself. Aside from the daily labor required by her disguise as a migrant worker, Faetōsa had immensely enjoyed her last month on the nearly endless prairie of Lothal. No, she thinks, that isn't quite right: even the work of harvesting grain had been a pleasurable diversion from her Jedi responsibilities of meditating, practicing lightsaber velocities, and standing endless watch aboard the _Ardent_. As she passes the exterior fence which housed the granary, the farm's two transports, and the one-room house, Faetōsa looks upon the hard-scrabble place with fondness, even affection. The family that operated the small farm may not be materially wealthy, but they was rich in kindness; they had mercifully taken in the destitute war refugee that had turned up on their doorstep thirty rotations ago without so much as a second thought. Their son, in fact, had been most eager to welcome her, and his presence had provided her a welcome diversion from the Jedi Code...

3

Inside the service shed, the harvest droids have inserted themselves into their respective docking stations for their nightly charge. Faetōsa hangs up her coat above her small cot and completes her final task for the day, plugging each droid into the power grid. The droid's charging batteries fills the shed with a warm glow and as the shadows slowly begin to recede, Faetōsa discerns that she is not alone. "Cregan! I thought you had to leave at dawn?" A human boy of sixteen years steps out of the corner of the shed where he had been waiting. "Sure, but you didn't think a little trip to the market was going to make me miss our time together, did you?" he says with a gentle smirk. He approaches Faetōsa, and the Pantoran girl and human boy take each other in their arms. Her lips tingle as they meet his and a spark of pleasure articulates though her chest. Faetōsa tries not to disrupt their kiss with an outbreak of a wry smile; how Eschrik would never allow this little dalliance!, she thought. "Let me remind you that the Code tells us that 'There is no passion, there is serenity,' Padawan Rei," he would have chided, rearing his shoulders in visage of superiority. Imaging this response made Faetōsa lean into Cregan with renewed zeal.

4

Over Cregan's shoulder, Faetōsa senses the numerous lights of the charging droids twinkle and pulse like the stars outside. She lifts her arm from Cregan's shoulder to point a finger playfully towards the light as she had done earlier; where would Pantora be? An image of her home appears in her mind, and a memory of Ty flashes in her mind. In an instant, Faetōsa quickly pulls away. Faetōsa thinks of the last time she had kissed Ty; had it really been over a year since they had last spoke, had last seen each other? Cregan looks crestfallen. "Ziri, did I do something wrong?" The false name assaults her ears. She exhales wistfully. "No Cregan, you're...you've been wonderful. And I enjoy whatever it is that we are doing. It's just that I haven't been entirely honest with you." Faetōsa leads Cregan to sit at the edge of her bed. "Cregan, I have to tell you: I am committed to be with someone else. I like you a lot, but I'm in love with someone else." She pauses as she prepares a white lie: "He...he may be far away right now, but it means I can't keep doing this with you." Cregan scratches the back of his head and looks down. "A beautiful girl falls out of the stars to wind up on my doorstep; I knew it was too good to be true." Faetōsa gently places her arm on his shoulder. "You've been very kind to me, and because I know how honorable you are, I know we can be friends." Cregan nods, clearly deflated by her words. "I'm disappointed, but...but I understand."

5

Cregan takes to his feet and wanders towards the charging droids. He fingers their knobs and dials absentmindedly. Faetōsa curls her knees to her chest, watching. Though he does not know it, the farmer's son is standing near the tool chest where Faetōsa had hidden her lightsaber. She had stopped carrying the weapon after her first week on Lothal. "Cregan, what do you want to be when you grow up?" she asks suddenly. He moves to the workbench, and distractedly turns a welder over in his hands. "I want to travel, that's for sure. I want to meet new people. Living on Lothal, you never meet anyone new. I want to visit a new world a week, maybe serving the people of the Republic at the same time." Faetōsa smiles. "You should become a Jedi then." Cregan laughs, replacing the welder on the table. "Yeah right. No, I want to really serve the Republic's people. The Jedi work and live exclusively in a temple, don't they? See, I would want to work in the government, maybe the Senate – you know, actually doing the work that makes democracy function." He pauses. "Maybe I could work as an economic counselor, or an ambassador." He picks up a shovel and taps the ground. "Ladies and gentlemen, announcing Ambassador Cregan Morillio!" Faetōsa laughs. "You think big for a farmhand, Cregan," she teases. For the first time since Faetōsa had spurned his affection, he smiles. "Hey, this job I'm taking tomorrow for Barhis Westmore could be my big break! I'll take his crop to the warehouse district and then spend the day wandering the marketplace. Who knows who I might meet? You know, come to think of it, there's been lots of strange activity in the warehouse district these days; it wasn't two days ago that I thought I saw a battle droid, can you believe that?" Faetōsa forces a smile, and feigns sleepiness. Cregan sees her yawn and leans the shovel against the wall. "Right, well. Goodnight, Ziri. I'm glad we can be friends." Faetōsa walks him to the door. As Cregan steals back towards the farmhouse, she whispers after him: "Me too."

6

Faetōsa closes the door and makes her way to the tool chest. She takes a deep breath and withdraws her communicator. She hopes that Cregan had been mistaken, that he had misidentified the battle droid in the market that might herald the arrival of Dooku on Lothal. Typing into her communicator, Faetōsa sends an encoded message on a secure channel to the _Ardent._ With the message sent, Faetōsa lays on her cot deep in thought. Perhaps three hours later, she was still awake when she heard the engine of one of the farm's two transport speeders ignite, heralding Cregan's departure for his contract job with Westmore. With intermittent sleep, Faetōsa herself arose and made her way to the farmhouse. Inside, the Morillio family is already awake, huddled around a table. Cregan's mother had set breakfast of oatmeal and blue milk for their farmhand. She ushers Faetōsa to sit. "Good morning, Ziri. Here, sit by Aimee, I'm finished." A young brunette girl waves at Ziri, and Faetōsa smiles and sits. "Thank you, Mrs. Morillio. Good morning, Aimee." Cregan's father is now standing by the door, adjusting his gloves. "Ziri, will you send the droids to sector four today? We need to get the grain there first thing." Faetōsa nods. "Yes, Mr. Morillio. I'll do it right away." Mrs. Morillio scoffs lightly. "Ziri, how many times do I have to tell you? You don't have to be so formal with us. Right, Jorrol?" Faetōsa grins and gestures at her two elders. "Right," enjoins Jorrol, placing his arms on the table. "Alright, Caileta, whatever you say," laughs Faetōsa. Jorrol raises his brow. "We're truly lucky to have you here, Ziri. Your work lets Cregan take contract jobs that earn him more in a day than I do in a week, even if it is with a cad like Barhis Westmore. Sorry we can't pay you more than we do, but hopefully if the harvest goes well next week, we can give you a bonus." "Believe me," replies Faetōsa, thinking of her master, "I am the fortunate one."

7

Before any of the breakfast company can disperse to begin their daily chores, the pounding of feet can be heard outside, followed by a siren. The door flies open and Cregan comes sliding in, cover in soot. Caileta gasps and drops her blue milk. "The military police are chasing me!" he pants, looking frantically at his parents. His eyes are filled with fear. Jorrol pulls the door closed and turns to his son. "Cregan, what happened?" Cregan steps away from the door, gesturing wildly. "I went to pick up Westmore's grain shipment. He gave me the keys, I got in his transport speeder, and it just crashed!" Jorrol grips Cregan's shoulder. "Son, if you crashed the speeder – well, it will be expensive, but we can fix it, it's alright." Cregan shakes violently. "No, you don't understand. He knew! Westmore knew it would crash. I started off, but the controls went haywire, and the speeder crashed into our transport! His grain, the speeder, our transport – they're all destroyed." Overcome by this news, Jorrol sits slowly at the table, paralyzed. "It's not my fault, dad!" yells Cregan, the sirens blaring louder outside. "Westmore sabotaged his own speeder, I know it!" Caileta tries to calm Aimee, who is about to cry. Faetōsa steps forward. "Why would he destroy his property like that?" "Framed him," mutters Jorrol. "Westmore framed my son for the insurance." Faetōsa squints. "Insurance? Certainly fraud like this can't be that profitable?" Jorrol cradles his head in his hands. "The Agriculture Incentivization Act passed by the Senate two weeks ago to keep this system loyal to the Republic. It provides matching funding to the local banking guilds' coverage of agricultural assets. As it is, Barhis stands to get double the amount of insurance by destroying his property." Jorrol slams his fist on the table. "He'll make a profit by destroying his property...why didn't I see this before?" Jorrol exclaims. There is no time for further discussion as a rap on the door interrupts their conclave.

8

"Open up in there!" The family is frozen in place, the voice outside seizing their activity."This is the military police! You are harboring a fugitive from justice. Open the door, now!" Jorrol finally steps towards the door and Cregan cries out: "Father, I'm begging you…" Jorrol looks back at this son. "We'll sort this out...somehow." The door opens, and three clone soldiers followed by a well-dressed man storm into the house. Faetōsa instinctually reaches for her lightsaber on her belt, but grasps at nothing. "You there!" says one of the clone soldiers, pointing at Cregan. "You're wanted for the destruction of this man's property, reckless endangerment, and fleeing the military police. You're coming with us." Before anyone can reply, the gentleman interjects. "Sergeant, that simply will not do! This criminal should be jailed, of course, but what of my destroyed crop? I worked all season for that grain, and now it's gone in the blink of an eye a week before the harvest! I demand remuneration with collateral as I am entitled to under Section 5.8 of the Reciprocal Protection Statute of the Lothal Agricultural Code!" The sergeant lowers his weapon and cocks his head. "Mr. Westmore, I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about. " Jorrol makes a threatening move towards Westmore and the soldiers raise their blasters. "I do," he says grimly, Caileta barely holding him back. "It means this bastard is trying to frame my son and take my grain as collateral. He's a thief!" The sergeant raises his arms. "Alright, look. You can keep your grain, Morillio, but consider it impounded until we get this sorted out." Westmore scoffs, but Jorrol is indignant. "Impounded? Seven days before the harvest? Sergeant, if I can't move that grain, my family will starve!" The sergeant shakes his head. "That's the best I can do - a judge will have to sort out the rest. Right now, your son is coming with me." Cregan cowers before the approaching soldiers, but Faetōsa steps between them. "Stop. You can't arrest him for an accident." The sergeant brushes her aside with a wave of his arm. "Step out of the way, girl. We don't take orders from farmhands, not even the pretty ones." Faetōsa clenches her fists in silence.

9

Caileta sobs as a gunship soars into the sky towards Central City, taking Cregan with it. Jorrol stands helpless as the ship disappears in the distance. Aimee weeps at the sight of her distraught parents. Faetōsa can barely watch the family in their despair. She had considered blowing her cover to reveal her identity and order the soldiers to stop. But what would that have achieved? Without her robes, would the soldiers have even believed that she was a Jedi and thus their military superiors? Nevertheless, she cannot dispel a pang of shame. Faetōsa begins to think of how to right this wrong, but Jorrol has already rallied. His expression belies his grim determination to rescue his son. "Look, everyone. Put the harvest out of your mind; it's not important right now. We know Cregan is innocent, I'm sure of it. Here's what we will do. We'll pack our things and take the remaining transport to Central City. There, we'll go to the marketplace and lease all of our land to raise the money to post Cregan's bail." Caileta intercedes. "Jorrol, we can't do that. You know Westmore has wanted this land for years. He will buy it and force us to leave. This is our home!" Aimee is wracked by a new wave of sobs, and Jorrol picks her off the ground. "You're right, dear. But we don't have a lot of options right now." Caileta looks at her feet. Jorrol continues. "So, once we pay Cregan's bail, we'll sell the transport and use the money to find a new home in the city." Caileta's expression softens. "Will it work?" Jorrol passes Aimee to her mother. "Yes, it will. It won't be easy, but at least we'll be together. Except..." He turns to Faetōsa. "Ziri, I'm sorry, but we can't afford to keep you on anymore." Faetōsa puts out her hands. "Don't worry! I'm not going anywhere. I'm coming with you. You needn't pay me a thing." Aimee runs to Faetōsa and hugs her around her knees. "I lost my big brother, but I'm glad to have you as a big sister!" the girl proclaims, her tears of sadness transformed to joy. Jorrol and Caileta smile tearfully; Faetōsa's heart sinks.

10

The transporter rumbles above the undulating dirt road, kicking up dust with its repulsors. The Morillio family rides in silence in the cockpit, leaving Faetōsa to sit amongst their possessions in the cargo bed. She stares out over the horizon: gentle rolling hills with the occasional cluster of sandstone rocks as far as the eye can see. Lothal was the closest thing she had felt to a home in the last year and half, and she cringed when she thought of Cregan. He had wanted to believe in the Republic, its institutions, and its democracy, but where had that got him? Jailed. She had spent so much time wishing she wasn't a Jedi that the moment she wanted to act as one, she could not. Faetōsa throws a stone from the bed in anger, where it bounced along the ground and disappeared in the cloud of dust in their trail. Stopping the military police from their invasion of the Morillio home was exactly the situation where her status as a Jedi could have been her best opportunity to serve citizens of the Republic. But Eschrik would never have forgiven her if she had jeopardized their year-long pursuit of Dooku to help some impoverished farmers. Not that she coveted his approval any longer, she glowers. Why are my hands always tied?, she thinks. Before she can answer her own question, Faetōsa hears a tell-tale sound coming from her pack. Her breath catches in her throat; so this was how her refuge from her life as a Jedi would finally end. She reaches to extract her imagecaster, knowing full well what to expect. "My Padawan, it is good to see you after these several weeks. You have a good lead. Our tireless pursuit of what we have so long yearned for may finally be rewarded." Eschrik's deep and expansive voice is mismatched with his small image sprouting from the imagecaster. "You must make your way to Central City at once. Abandon whatever commitments you have made and proceed to rendezvous with me at these coordinates post haste." Faetōsa notifies her master that she is already on her way. "Well met. My Padawan," Eschrik smiles, "ever vigilant." His image disappears. Faetōsa flings the device against the transporter in disgust.

11

It would not have been difficult for Faetōsa to manufacture an excuse to leave the Morillios on account of some fictional business in Central City, but she decided to make her meeting with Eschrik worthwhile, for the family that had been so kind to her. "While you secure the money for Cregan's bail, I'll look into finding you a place to stay," she told Jorrol. "Here," Jorrol had replied, stuffing several hundred credits worth of worn bills into her hands. "Find us a room and you can take us there tonight." Nearing the coordinates Eschrik had supplied, Faetōsa had leapt from the back of the transporter as the Morillios continued on towards the marketplace. As the transporter disappears in the traffic of the city, Faetōsa slowly walks toward the address Eschrik had indicated. People carrying bags and cases were streaming out of the complex, grumbling. She inquires with one of these displaced people, a cranky looking old woman. "I've had it with this place!" she spits, eager to have someone to complain to. "Another gas leak 'er something, they tells us. Hah! A Jawa could run this 'er building better than these damn landlords! I'm through living here. Tell you what – you got five hundred credits, the room and everything in it is yours." The woman holds out a security card. "Won't need it when I'm living with my cousin in the country, no sir. Glad to be rid of it!" Faetōsa smiles politely and hands the wrinkled woman Jorrol's credits. One problem solved, she thinks. Faetōsa parts ways with the woman and steps into the lobby. She studies the building with the Morillios in mind when she sees a familiar face: "Major Reth!"

12

The clone officer stands out in his distinctive armor. He beckons her to the lift, looking as if he would rather be elsewhere. "Good to see you, Commander Rei. Though you look more like a laborer than a Commander." Faetōsa raises a brow. "Farmhand is a rank that fits me just fine, thanks," she says a little more bitterly than she had intended. Reth nevertheless smiles and replaces his helmet. "Come, General Eschrik is waiting for us on the top floor." As the lift rises, Faetōsa looks skeptical. "What are we doing here, exactly?" The lift door opens to reveal the residential floor converted into a military command post. Electronic scopes and electrobinoculars line every window. Standing screens and holograms show security camera feeds and project maps of the city. Soldiers from the _Ardent_ rush about, securing this equipment, a tangled web of cables underfoot. "From here, we've got surveillance on the whole city," says Reth. "Had to vacate the building under the auspices of gas leak, but the civies should be back at home in no time." Faetōsa worries: would the Morillio family have a place to sleep tonight? There is no time for her to consider this, for in the center of the hive of activity is Eschrik, who is holding a bundle under his arm. He turns to greet the new arrivals, a lingering eye appraising Faetōsa. "Welcome back, Padawan," he says, placing in Faetōsa's hands a stiff and clean tunic of their Order. Faetōsa notices that Eschrik looks different from when she had seen him last. He looked worn, and she notices that he sports new scars on his arms and sides, but she has no time to remark about the nature of the trouble he had evidently found himself in. "Better get dressed," he says.

13

Blinking, Faetōsa ties Ty's sash around her face where it blindfolds her once again. The world around her comes into focus just a little sharper. Adjusting her tunic and affixing her lightsaber on her belt, Faetōsa returns to the command post, her tunic itching uncomfortably. A Republic solider, evidently a courier, is making a report to Eschrik. "Sir, I've just come from outpost Bravo. I can confirm that the target is present." Eschrik's eyes gleam and he stiffens. "You've seen him? You saw Dooku with your own eyes?" The solider nods. "Yes sir. He's in the warehouse district. Landed a shuttle there just twenty minutes ago." "Get me this on the screen!" Eschrik demands loudly. Images of the warehouse district appear. "There!" cries Eschrik. "He's here all right," says Major Reth. "But sir, I've got eyes on this location who say this meeting is surrounded by a shipment of fuel cells. We should wait to confront Dooku elsewhere, or we risk hittin' those combustibles." "Your concerns are noted, Major, but we are not missing our long-awaited chance to put down this Gray Jedi heretic," Eschrik replies, affixing his lightsabers to his staff. Major Reth moves forward to protest, but the Herglic insists. "As your General, not only am I your superior officer, but you would do well to recall that this mission comes directly from the Jedi Council, Major Reth. They will decide if we go or not." Faetōsa rolls her eyes under her blindfold; it had not been ten minutes since they had reunited, and Eschrik was already acting like a tyrant. The lights dim, and an image of Master Windu appears from a large hologram project. Eschrik bows. "Master Windu, my Padawan's intelligence was accurate. We have located Dooku and are prepared to apprehend him. Do we have the order to proceed?" Major Reth shifts awkwardly, looking to Windu. "Sir, if I may, the area in question is –" "You may not, Major. Stand down," Eschrik intercedes. "Mdlaren, I'd like to hear what the Major has to say," placates Windu. Eschrik stares at the Major, but Reth pays him no heed, repeating his concerns. Windu stokes his chin. "Thank you for your consideration, Major. Mdlaren, the Council gives you its approval. You may engage. May the Force be with you."

14

As the image of Windu dissipates, Faetōsa rushes forward. "Master, I must reach the family I was staying with. They're headed towards the warehouse and market district as we speak." Eschrik is confused. "Padawan, there is no need to maintain appearances any longer. You intelligence was accurate, and your mission is complete – now, we must confront Dooku together." "But master –" Faetōsa begins to plead, but Eschrik balks at her tone, his evidence apparently already spent. "Is there no one here who knows how to follow orders?!" he erupts. Eschrik's shout freezes the activity of the soldiers. Major Reth stands stiffly in place. Eschrik leans down to stare the Pantoran woman in the face. "After an entire year of your protestations from Garos to Drall, I thought a little time away would be useful for you to remember your place, Padawan. But evidently your remain as strident as ever!" Major Reth turns to his men and signals them to get back to their duties as he tries to spare Faetōsa from having to suffer an audience to her humiliation. "I will not allow you, or the Major, or some damned fuel cells to jeopardize the most important mission I have ever been assigned by the Council!" roars Eschrik. Faetōsa stands woodenly in silence. "Now, you must obey me, apprentice!" Eschrik pounds his fists together, his tirade complete. The command post is filled only with the sound of the soldiers at work. Eschrik looks at the screen displaying Dooku pacing next to his ship, and then back to his Padawan. He sighs deeply, reigning his frustration. "Padawan, the stakes could not be higher," he gestures firmly. "When we capture Dooku, you may reach out to this family of yours," his voice softens, as if remembering a forgotten imperative to be kind. "But right now, I need you at my side. Can you do that?" Faetōsa thinks to double-down on her resistance, but the image of an inclined iris fades into view, and she shivers. She had learned the cost of rebellion. Faetōsa retrieves her lightsaber hilt from her hip. "Yes, sir."

15

Under the long rafters of the warehouse, several large freighters are unloading their cargo. A handful of human workers are afoot, but they take no notice of the pair of Jedi stealing about their midst. As the two reach Dooku's ship, they hear voices in heated discussion. Eschrik waits behind a large stack of crates that hide his bulk as Faetōsa nears the meeting to eavesdrop from behind a solitary fuel cell. She recognizes the voice of Lothal's governor: "You will have to provide me better assurances than that, Count. I won't allow Lothal to be the target of Republican reprisals." A new voice speaks, one she has never heard before. "Your planet will be safe behind the shield of the Separatist fleet. Once you align with our cause, Lothal's assets will not fall into the Republic's hands." Faetōsa gestures to Eschrik, who steps out of hiding. "Do not listen to the craven words of a fallen Jedi, governor," exclaims Eschrik triumphantly. Faetōsa darts to his side, her breathing quickening before the impending fight. Almost as if he were bored, the bearded man who must be Dooku stares at the approaching Herglic with disdain. Eschrik continues: "The Republic and the Jedi are righteous, and will protect your planet, governor. Send this heretic away, and allow us to dispatch him once and for all." The governor stands quivering at the appearance of the massive Jedi, and she takes a step away from a silver-haired man in black finery. Dooku scowls. "Disrupting a diplomatic meeting?" he says, feigning indignation in his haughty voice. "You are most impolite, Jedi." Eschrik smirks and ignites his lightsabers. Faetōsa follows suit, gulping air; Dooku's Form II was renowned among the Jedi, and her _Niman_ style with a lightsaber was least suited to match it – she tries to focus so that this fight would not be her last. Dooku casts off his cloak, red lightsaber in hand. "Please forgive this interruption, governor. The only language that my Jedi friends understand is the language of battle."

16

Eschrik closes with Dooku, his staff whirling overhead. The Herglic repeatedly brings its blue blades crashing down on Dooku's raised saber, sparks flying. Despite the ferocity of the attack, Dooku nimbly deflects the assault. He twists away and goes on the offensive, forcing Eschrik to use his staff to block the red blade darting forward in a deadly dance. In an attempt to join the attack, Faetōsa approaches Dooku and lunges at him from the side; she feels the same boiling anger emminiating from Dooku as she had felt when she had dueled with Ventress on Drall. But before she can land a mark of contact, Dooku knocks her off her feet with a wave of his hand without looking, his attention locked on his more demanding Herglic adversary. From where she lands, Faetōsa sits up and sprints again towards her assailant. Eschrik does little to make room for his Padawan, however – he is in a frenzy, oblivious to Faetōsa and the rest of the world around him. Dooku is forced to abandon his rapier-like form to counter Eschrik's bludgeoning assault. As Dooku moves to repulse her again, Faetōsa leaps into the air using the Force, falling toward the earth with lightsaber poised for contact. At the moment before impact, Dooku raises an arm and seizes hold of her with Force. Suspended in mid-air, Faetōsa writhes in frustration, reaching towards Dooku. She can see the threads of the Force that hold her in place glowing around her waist, but these threads flasher with a light far harsher than those she can summon. Before she can contemplate splitting them, Dooku flicks his wrist downward and Faetōsa crashes to the ground. Dazed from the impact, she rolls to her side and depresses the activator on her communicator. "Major, we need reinforcements." Locking blades with Dooku, Eschrik calls out stubbornly to his Padawan: "No! I can take him!"

17

In a barrage of blue lasers, Major Reth's company emerges from their hiding places on the perimeter. Eschrik growls and hammers his blades down on Dooku's, eager to end the duel before the soldiers arrive. But Dooku has other plans; using his spare hand, he raises a nearby fuel cell and hurls it towards Major Reth and his men. "Look out!" Faetōsa cries, unable to arrest the canister's flight. The clone soldiers dive away from the ensuing explosion, but several are killed in the blast. Worse is yet to come, however, as the explosion of the fuel cell begins a chain reaction throughout the warehouse, the concussion of the successive blasts knocking all but Dooku off their feet. The Sith races towards a cargo speeder laden with fuel cells and rockets out of the warehouse into the streets of Central City. Eschrik gets to his feet and lets out a defiant roar: "Get me to a gunship!" he yells at Major Reth. The Jedi follow the soldiers out of the warehouse to a waiting gunship. As the ship claws into the air, Faetōsa peers through the wind to the streets below. Dooku's speeder weaves in and out of the traffic of the marketplace. "Open fire!" Eschrik commands. Green lasers land like javelins in the street, exploding several passing speeders and parked transports. "With those fuel cells, he's just daring us to hit him!" Faetōsa cries, watching civilians ducking for cover amidst the chaos. "Sir, give the order to ceasefire! We're hitting civies down there!" Major Reth pleads. "This is a Jedi mission!" Eschrik repeats, and the gunship continues to unload its deadly payload into the city street. As Dooku's speeder nears the busy marketplace, Faetōsa finally steps forward. "Hold your fire, gunner! You're killing innocent people!" The gunner stops and Eschrik is too busy to contradict her, pointing. "Dooku's entered that hangar by the Interior Ministry. Pilot, take us in there. He's got nowhere to go – I have him now!"

18

The gunship approaches the surface street and hovers low, entering the marketplace hangar. Passing only feet above a collection of parked speeders, transports, and vehicles of all kinds, Faetōsa quickly realizes something is wrong. She espies Dooku's speeder and its cargo directly below the hovering gunship. By the time she notices the pulsing red light of a thermal detonator amidst the fuel cells, it is too late to warn the pilot. As the explosive left by Dooku detonates directly beneath the gunship, Faetōsa feels Eschrik's thick arms encircle her waist and wildly catapult her into space. She lands with a crash on the windshield of a park speeder as the ensuing blast throws the gunship lurching upwards. She hears the screams of the clone soldiers pierce the sound of crunching metal before they are extinguished as the broken gunship smashes into the hangar ceiling. As flames from the wreckage of the gunship lick the ceiling and its charred wreckage falls to the ground, Faetōsa sees daylight where there should be none. The sky is opening up before her, and the entire ceiling collapsing around her. With a low roar, the entire hangar falls to pieces.

19

As the rubble settles, Faetōsa struggles to breathe. The dust of the collapse threatens to stifle her lungs. There is only a thin flicker of flame from the burning wreckage of the hanger that illuminates the mass of bent steel and obliterated concrete, but this hardly matters to the blind Pantoran. Eschrik and Major Reth are nowhere in sight. Coughing, she searches for an exit from the cage of debris. Unable to reach the wreckage of the gunship, Faetōsa feels her way through the thicket of rent metal, making her way towards the wall of hangar. As she approaches, she detects a large hole blasted into the wall of the Interior Ministry. Lifting herself through the structures' gaping wound, Faetōsa finds herself in an adjoining room. Though largely intact, this space has been severely damaged by the explosion and collapse of the hanger; much of the debris from this carnage has torn through the dark hallway. She wonders how long the rest of the groaning building will remain upright. Dodging crumbling detritus, Faetōsa makes her way towards what might be an entrance. She discerns with her Force-sight a series of small rooms; is this a residential complex, or perhaps market stalls? she wonders. Allowing her sight to focus, her breath catches in her throat. There are bars surrounding each of these spaces, and on the floor of many of these rooms are what look like prone bodies. Faetōsa rushes into the nearest jail cell, checking for any signs of life. Her search is interrupted by a humming sound. She is bathed in red light. Dooku is here.

20

The dark cloud of dust hanging over the jail is excited by the extension of a violet blade into its mist. Dooku's tall frame appears out of the darkness, and Faetōsa turns to face him. "How now like the wild beasts," Dooku says with condescension, "Where the weakest is separated from the rest of the herd, only to perish at the hands of strongest. Where is your master? A pity I will not have a chance to finally defeat him." Dooku's lightsaber meets hers, if just for a moment; he is toying with her, connecting with her blade as if in a gentle sparring match. "Are you mute as well as blind, girl?" the Sith says, circling Faetōsa. "I don't need my master's eyes to look after me. I can do that myself," she says, pulse pounding. Dooku smirks. "I can sense your fear, little Padawan." Seemingly struck by an inspiration of confidence, now it is Faetōsa's turn to smile. "And that must make you nervous, does it not?" Dooku pauses and raises a brow. "And how is that, child?" Faetōsa lunges quickly and unexpectedly, and Dooku hastily parries. "If I am like a wild animal about to be slaughtered as you say, then I will use my fear to gnaw, bite, and spit more fiercely than your genteel mind can imagine," Faetōsa says with a wicked grin. Dooku squints, contemplating her words, and then strikes with his own lightsaber; Faetōsa deflects his blade. "Unsettling sentiment for a Jedi, Padawan," Dooku says. "Has not your master told you that the Order believes fear is not to be used as weapon? That is the path of the Sith." He locks his blade with hers, but Faetōsa unleashes a wall of Force energy towards Dooku which propels her sliding backwards, out of reach of the Sith's blade. "Girl, what are you doing? " he says, irritated. "Evading you. As an animal, I'll do whatever I have to do to live to fight another day," Faetōsa says, mimicking Dooku's disdainful tenor. "So be it, animal," is his reply. Jagged lightning erupts out of Dooku's hands, leaping across the room to wreath Faetōsa in a wiry coil. Her skin prickles sharply and shooting pain like hot needles sink into every pore. She screams in agony.

21

Cringing, Faetōsa looks up from where she has fallen. Though the pain lingers, the Force lightning is gone, replaced by a different blue light. Eschrik towers over her, his twin lightsabers spitting an azure ether in the dark of the jail. "Why not pick on someone your own size, Sith?" Eschrik bellows, charging Dooku. Though the swordsman parries and dodges, Eschrik is alive with fanatical energy. The Herglic's huge windmill strokes hit Dooku's saber like a hammer hitting a wire, and Faetōsa wonders if the red blade might break in two. With a screeching sound, Dooku finally manages to use his saber to halt Eschrik's assault, though only by the thinnest of margins; Eschrik's sustained attack has brought Dooku's blade only inches away from his face. Seizing the opportunity, Dooku raises his hand and dislodges a massive hulk of twisted steel directly above where Faetōsa has fallen. Withdrawing his hand, Dooku sends the wreckage careening toward the ground. Rolling on her back, Faetōsa unleashes threads of the Force to halt the falling metal. The tendrils of light wrap themselves over the hulk of metal, but they begin to fray and snap, her body sapped from Dooku's torture. "Eschrik!" she cries in anguish, her will weakening. Eschrik, blades locked with Dooku, looks backward. "Help me!" Faetōsa pleads. Dooku steps away from his distracted adversary, smiling. "What will you do, Jedi?" he says with great malice as he shakes lose debris from the entire room now. "Are you really so eager to fight me that you would be willing to lose another Padawan?" Despite the disintegration of the walls of the jail around him, Eschrik freezes at Dooku's words. "Damn you, Sith." Dooku rounds on his heel and takes flight into the darkness. Eschrik takes two full steps in pursuit, lets out an agonized yell, and turns to stampede past falling debris towards Faetōsa. Using the Force, he knocks the wreckage suspended in air away from his Padawan and scoops her up in his arms. Sprinting in Dooku's direction, the two Jedi escape the jail as the remainder of the long-teetering building finally caves in.

22

As the dense cloud of dust finally begins to settle over the collapsed jail, Faetōsa peers around her from where Eschrik had deposited her. They had emerged from the destroyed Interior Ministry to an even wider swath of wreckage. A pyre of smoke and ash lingers above the distant warehouse district. The street leading away from the spaceport is pockmarked with craters, the boulevard of Central City littered with the shattered hulls of the speeder and transports belonging to those citizens unfortunate enough to be caught in the same street as a fleeing Count Dooku. As for the hanger that housed the vehicles and goods of the nearby market – and now entombs the wreckage of Republican gunship and its crew – it is nothing more than a scrap heap. Faetōsa winces at the thought of Major Reth trapped in the exploding gunship. A huge crowd is gathered to comb the wreckage for survivors. A recently arrived Master Windu is amongst them, escorted by clones soldiers, and harangued by a hurried Eschrik: "But he cannot have escaped this planet, Master Windu. The _Ardent_ is standing by in orbit. We will find him!" Windu glances towards the steady stream of traffic in and out of Central City's busy spaceport, he shakes his head. "Master Windu..." Eschrik begs, but Faetōsa cannot bear to listen any longer. She takes to her feet and dashes into the crowd.

23

Amidst the rubble of the Interior Ministry, Faetōsa finds her family, their backs turned to her. "Jorrol, Caileta, Aimee! Thank goodness you're alive! Did you find –" Faetōsa stops. Jorrol turns to face her, the linen-wrapped body of Cregan held limply in his arms. Caileta bursts into tears and hugs Faetōsa with great relief. "Ziri!" she cries. "Why are you blindfolded?" Faetōsa ignores the question, trying to return the warmth of this embrace, but she finds herself cold. It had only been mere hours before that she and Cregan had been together, bathed in the light of charging droids, secure in each other's arms. "Jorrol, what happened?" she asks quietly. "Was traveling from the marketplace when our transport just...exploded." he says distantly. "It was a miracle we made it off the street at all, Ziri," Caileta says, finishing the story. "There were so many explosions..." Now her voice cracks. Jorrol shakes his head. "We took the money for Cregan's bail here, to free our son, only to find..." he trails off again, clutching Cregan's body. "Ziri, we're very tired," says Caileta, wrapping a distraught Aimee in the folds of her dress. "And we need a place to stay tonight, and a place to...to prepare to say goodbye to Cregan. Will you take us to the room you found for us now?" Faetōsa sits on beam of metal protruding from the rubble, burying her head in her arms. "The room I found isn't available tonight. I'm so sorry. The Jedi evacuated the building." This reply is met by silence. Using this break in the adult's conversation, Aimee speaks up: "Ziri, why are you wearing those funny clothes?"

24

Faetōsa begins to speak, but two soldiers appear. "Commander Rei, General Eschrik says that we must depart." Faetōsa offers them only a fierce scowl. "No! Go be useful and help look for survivors," Faetōsa orders testily. The soldiers salute. "Yes, sir!" Faetōsa cannot tell which member of the Morillio family is more shocked. "You're a Commander in the Grand Army of the Republic?" Jorrol stammers. "No. I am a Padawan in the Jedi Order," she offers lamely, her voice filled with defeat. Caileta gasps and clutches her chest. Jorrol looks angry. "Ziri, are you telling me that you outrank soldiers, even in the military police?" Faetōsa was expecting this reckoning, but now that it is before her, she finds that she cannot bear it. As Faetōsa turns away from the Morillio family in disgrace, Eschrik appears. "Padawan, we must go," Eschrik commands quietly. "Yes, master," Faetōsa replies. "Now wait just a minute! What happened here? Who killed my son?" Jorrol stammers at Eschrik. The Herglic looks down at the man blankly. "It's classified," the Jedi responds. Jorrol grips the body of his son. "As a citizen of the Republic, I have a right to know! When will the Republic form an inquiry on this disaster? Will it be open to the public?" "And when will the building Ziri found for us be cleared for residence?" implores Caileta. Eschrik looks at them testily. "I am a Jedi Knight. I am unfamiliar with the details of such protocols." Jorrol is incensed. "Well, Jedi, how can you make up for this? My speeder? My grain? My son?!" He gestures to Cregan's body. Eschrik waves him off by holding up his hand. "If you submit a claim, the Jedi Order will ensure that you are remunerated for your material losses. Now, let us be gone, Padawan." As the two Jedi turn their backs on the family, Jorrol seethes. "I don't want money, I want justice!" he yells after them." I want Barhis Westmore arrested! I want someone held responsible for the death of my son!" Faetōsa hangs her head in sadness; if her inaction had resulted in her own death, that was one thing. But the death of another? For the first time, Faetōsa finds herself yearning not for the vitality of friendships, but for the isolation of the Jedi.

25

The scene on the bridge of the _Ardent_ is subdued. Faetōsa stands at the viewport staring down at Lothal from its orbit. Frustrated Eschrik paces, unable to accept the outcome of their mission. Meanwhile, Captain Drayen ruefully examines Major Reth's scarred helmet. Windu approaches the captain. "Making sacrifices is the way of the Jedi. And we must all be prepared to make them during this time of war for the Republic. But never forget: 'There is no death, there is the Force.'" Drayen grunts. Windu turns to Eshrik. "Now we must gather at the Temple and begin the search for Dooku anew. The Council will not allow him to go far, my friend." Eschrik is inconsolable. "It took me nearly a year to find him," Eschrik murmurs. "He was within my reach." Windu nods. "Mdlaren, the Council is grateful for your tireless efforts to accomplish this long and difficult mission. Today, you not only found Dooku, but you bested him in combat. You and your Padawan performed admirably. Today, you succeeded. You've made the Council proud, my friend," reports Windu. Faetōsa can only scoff. Thinking of the Morillios and their awful fate amid the wreckage of the Jedi mission to their homeworld, she can scarcely believe the Council would accept such egregious collateral damage as a victory. Trying to curb her rage at her own passivity, Faetōsa anxiously fingers a small wooden carving in her pocket. As Jorrol had disappeared from the ruins with Aimee in tow, Caileta had gingerly approached Faetōsa. "This is Cregan's statue of our goddess of fertility, Jalaila. He had it for good luck. Take it." She ran her finger over its small friendly face. "Captain Drayen, prepare for the jump to hyperspace," orders Windu. "Let's leave this chapter behind us." He turns now to Eschrik. "You've pursued Dooku for a long time, Mdlaren. The Council applauds your commitment. But perhaps it is time for a new mission." Mortified, Eschrik looks to Windu, but says nothing. As the _Ardent_ 's faster-than-light engines begin to spool, Faetōsa feels the shame of her privilege, perhaps like many of us have naturally felt when confronted by great inequity. The Pantoran is humiliated to be whisked away from the consequences of her actions on the planet belew in the blink of an eye. As the _Ardent_ slips into hyperspace and jumps away from Lothal, the ship is departing from a world where both master and apprentice have lost something dear.


	9. Chapter Seven: Masochism

Mascochism

Gratification gained from pain, deprivation, degradation, inflicted or imposed on oneself by a morality.

 _"_ _I am not the Jedi I am supposed to be. I want more. I know that I shouldn't."_ –Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker to Padme Amidala, _The Revenge of the Sith_

 _"_ _Train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose."_ –Jedi Master Yoda to Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, _The Revenge of the Sith_

 _"I wear my robe so that I am warm; I carry my lightsaber so that I am safe; and I keep enough credits for my next meal, so that I am not hungry. If the Force wants me to have more, it finds a way of letting me know."_ -Attributed to Jedi Master Kagoro, _Power of the Jedi Sourcebook_

 _"I've brought hundreds of Force-sensitives to the Temple. Some of these younglings had already begun their first lives and were accustomed to soft fabrics, riotous colors, and endless choices – all the indulgences of the outsiders who value self over service."_ –Jedi Recruiter Morrit Ch'Gally, _The Jedi Path_

1

In the cockpit of a two-seater ARC-170 fighter, Faetōsa struggles to focus. The fighter dips and wobbles in space. "Steady now," comes Kittani's voice from the pilot's seat. "Okay, we got a bogey on our tail now. We need to roll in three, two, one, now!" Faetōsa nervously noses the ARC fighter down. "Roll, Tōsa, not pitch!" Kittani urges. "Come on, you know this!" "Right, right, I know," sputters Faetōsa, pulling the joystick to starboard. As the fighters weave, a shadow falls over them. The _Ardent's_ current location is conducive to such flying lessons; there is little chance for Separatist entanglement here in deep space. Such empty vastness is unfamiliar to Faetōsa. After Dooku's escape on Lothal, she and Eschrik had been given a new mission:"The Council would like you to take the _Ardent_ and travel the Colonies to patrol our inner trade lanes, rendezvous with navy outposts, and to be on hand to resolve local diplomatic disputes," Master Kenobi had instructed her master. Eschrik had been appalled. "You're sending us on a routine war patrol?" he had asked incredulously. "We'll rotate the 173rd Legion and the _Ardent_ back to the front-line once you've had some rest," Master Kenobi had said palliatively. "Try to enjoy it." Though Eschrik had been disgusted at this assignment, he had not protested. Since then, however, Eschrik had made himself scarce aboard his cruiser. When Captain Drayen had encouraged Faetōsa to get to know the ship's crew in the absence of her master and in light of the ship's uneventful slough through space, she had decided to take up Kenobi's exhortation. "Tōsa!" Kittani's voice snaps her back to focus. Faetōsa's flight correction has come too late; a second ARC fighter drops in behind the first, radio electronic lasers peppering the tail of the first."You're dead, Ravenflight," a voice crackles gleefully over the comm. "Copy that, Vulture. Alright, Tōsa. We'll get 'em next time." Faetōsa shakes her helmeted head. "I'm sorry, Kittani," she offers lamely. "Out here, kid, its Ravenflight," Kittani says. "You call the ball. Take us back to the Big A."

2

As Faetōsa climbs down from the ARC fighter's cockpit, she pockets a small carved figure that she had taped to the console. Two clone pilots in their flight suits come bounding up, helmet in hand. "The Commander was looking a little confused out there today, wouldn't you say, Boomerang?," the first pilot laughs. "Yeah, just like you on your first combat mission, Vulture," kids Kittani. Boomerang punches Faetōsa's shoulder and points. "Better luck next time, kid!" Vulture and Boomerang disappear from the flight deck. Now Kittani puts an arm around her. "Look, Tōsa. You've gotta relax out there. You're tight. Worried. Tense. If you want to learn to fly well, you need to learn to be loose." Faetōsa forces a smile as the two women head away from the flight deck. "Be loose?" she wonders. "Yeah, kid, loose. Like this," Kittani says, stretching her arms and filling the passageway with her frame. "LT, get your ruddy appendages outta my face!" teases a passing clone pilot. "Keep your ruddy face away from my appendages, Gambler!" she teases back. As Gambler disappears, Faetōsa stops. "Kittani, how can you be so...carefree?" Kittani's smile vanishes. "Kid, we're on a long patrol. This duty is about as light as it gets during wartime." Faetōsa folds her arms. "That's not what I mean. You seem happy here. You always do. Aside from when I first met you after Garos, you've always been so... I don't know, so joyous." Faetōsa pauses. Kittani crosses her arms and leans against the wall of the corridor. "When was the last time you were home, Tōsa?" Faetōsa ponders this question; when was the last time she had seen Ty? "Nearly two years now, I think," she answers. Kittani whistles. "See, kid, then I don't blame you for being so tightly wound. Being at home, with your friends, that's what keeps you grounded. As for me? Well, the Big A is my home. And once you're at home with your friends long enough, then they become your family. And every day you get to spend with your family? That's tops. There's nowhere else I'd rather be. Who knows, kid," says Kittani, flashing a smile, "maybe you'll stick around long enough to think about us like that someday."

3

As the two walk unhurriedly through the corridor from the flight deck towards the locker room, Faetōsa speaks again. "Kittani, can I ask you something?" Kittani nods. "Yeah, shoot." Faetōsa is confident that her friendship with Kittani is strong, but doesn't know how this question will land. She takes a breath. "Kittani, why are you the only female officer aboard this ship?" Kittani smiles widely, taking off her gloves. "I'm not, remember?" Kittani stands stiff at attention, raising her hand. "Respectfully speaking, Commander, you're my superior officer. So that makes two of us!" Faetōsa smiles and returns the jest salute. Here Kittani purses her lips and runs a hand through her sharp black hair. "Well, Tōsa, its like this. Very few women enter flight school. Even on Coreilla, growing up I was told flying was for boys. But I always wanted to do it, and was too stubborn to take no for an answer. Naturally, I acted out as a kid, and when my parents wanted to send me away to military school, I told them: Mr. and Mrs. Kittani, make it flight school, and you have yourself a deal." Faetōsa laughs. "You did not say that!" Kittani snickers. "You bet I did!" The two exchange a laugh and enter the locker room.

4

Sitting on a bench across from Faetōsa, Kittani continues her story, unlacing her boots. "Anyway, after that, I joined up. Back then, before the war, they had me doing shuttle duty for military personnel, supply runs, that kind of thing. That's probably because my boneheaded commanding officer had no idea what to do with a woman pilot. But then the war started, and they needed pilots for the frontline fighter squadrons. Course, that's where I wanted to be from the beginning. I flew a couple missions, got a couple kills, and got promoted here to be the Squadron Leader on the Big A." Faetōsa eyes her skeptically. "A couple kills? Kittani, I don't think a couple kills would qualify you for that promotion. How many, really?" Kittani shrugs. Faetōsa smiles. "Come on, tell me!" "Well," Kittani says as if deep in thought, stroking her chin, "Let's just say I made ace..." –"You're an ace?" Faetōsa interrupts – "on my first sortie," Kittani finishes. Faetōsa's eyes are wide under her blindfold. "Well, that was enough for the higher ups to overlook that their squadron's best pilot just had the misfortune of being born in the wrong body," Kittani grins. Faetōsa smiles and shakes her head, glancing down the aisle of lockers. The stare of a nearby clone solider donning his armor lingers on the undressing Kittani a fleeting moment too long, and his failure to avert his eyes does not go unnoticed. Kittani rolls her eyes and shrugs at Faetōsa, stepping out of her flight suit and heading for the shower. She flashes a wry smirk. "The real question is, how many kills it takes to get our own locker room, huh?"

5

As Kittani returns from the shower, Faetōsa's blue skin masks her bashfulness. "Actually, I have to go back to my quarters because my tunic and robes are there," she says, eyeing the nearby male soldiers in various states of undress. Kittani pulls on an undershirt and a pair of pants and snaps them closed. "Nonsense. Besides, I have something for you." She reaches into a locker labeled RAVENFLIGHT. As she rummages around inside, she continues: "You know, the clones are pretty respectful, actually. They're born and bred as soldiers after all, so they value fighting prowess. They recognize and appreciate true warriors when they see them. It's the Republican Navy officers, actually, that are the worst." Faetōsa is taken aback. "Really? I would have thought most of them, as Academy graduates, would know better." Kittani slams the locker shut, clutching a bag of clothes. "That's the problem, kid. They're all insufferable, stuck-up, entitled nitwits. It's a pretty exclusive boy's club, you know? That's why I don't eat in the officer's mess, or use their locker room, or spend time in their rec-room." Kittani opens the bag and withdraws a freshly pressed officer's uniform, complete with Commander's insignia. "I had the quartermaster's mate tailor this in your size. Here, take it." Faetōsa feels the olive fabric of an Naval officer's uniform in her hands. "When you wear it, those boys on the bridge can't forget who they answer to. Do you like it?" Faetōsa smiles wide. "Kittani, I love it. This is a wonderful gift. Thank you."

6

Kittani continues to don her own uniform, tying her boots. Faetōsa is still in her flight suit, holding her new kit. "What's wrong? Aren't you going to put it on?" Kittani asks. Faetōsa shifts uncomfortably, nodding in the direction of the clone solider tarrying nearby. Kittani places a laced boot on his bench with a thud. "Hey, you. You're new here, aren't you? What's your name?" The solider fumbles to attention, saluting. "ARC Trooper 29175, sir!" Kittani looks at Faetōsa as if asking permission; Faetōsa shrugs unknowingly. "Not anymore. From now on, you're Deadweight." From down the row of lockers, Vulture and Boomerang appear, clad in little more than towels, laughter erupting from their identical faces. "Deadweight! Ha! Love it." Deadweight looks pleadingly to Kittani. "Please, sir, not that one. I've waited my whole life to be given a name!" Vulture approaches and pats him on the head. "There, there, Deadweight, you just learned you first lesson aboard the Big A: don't mess with the Lieutenant Commander – she makes up our callsigns." A horrified look comes over Deadweight. "She's the Lieutenant Commander?" He looks in a new light at Kittani, who waves. "Bye bye," she mouths, and Deadweight is hauled off by Vulture and Boomerang. Kittani turns to Faetōsa with a thumbs up. "You're all clear."

7

Clean and refreshed, Faetōsa steps out of the locker room to meet Kittani in the corridor; there, Vulture and Boomerang also await. The three hoot and holler as the Pantoran woman emerges in the garb of the Republican Navy. "Sir, yes sir!" calls Vulture. Boomerang whistles. "Excellent! Tōsa, really, you look really great," Kittani says warmly. Faetōsa turns in the uniform. "You think so?" The three snap their heels and offer a smart salute. The Pantoran takes pride in her new appearance. She feels empowered by her clothes in a way she had never felt in her Jedi robes. Who hasn't felt a similar feeling of liberation when a new identity is afforded by their appearance? Faetōsa returns their salute, but frowns slightly. "I wonder what Major Reth would say, seeing me like this." The foursome falls silent. Kittani nods solemnly. "He'd be proud of you, getting to know to his men, his ship, and his home." Vulture and Boomerang nod in affirmation. Kittani places a hand on her hip. "Now, Tōsa and I have to report to the bridge. We'll meet you two in the mess." Boomerang feigns disappointment. "Aww, but I wanted to spend some quality time with Cap'n Drayen too!" Faetōsa folds her arms in mock disapproval. "Is that insubordination I hear?" Boomerang and Vulture grin knowingly and depart.

8

As they approach the bridge, Faetōsa asks the obvious question. "What did Boomerang mean about Captain Drayen?" Kittani stops at the threshold. "Oh, he's giving me grief because he thinks I have a thing for the Captain. Truth is, Drayen is my mentor. I'm aboard the _Ardent_ only because of him; he's the only commanding officer in the fleet who didn't think having a woman as Squadron Leader would make him combat ineffective. I owe him a great deal for giving me the chance to prove myself in combat." Kittani's voice falls low. "But still, even on Drayen's ship, the officer corps isn't exactly a kaleidoscope," Kittani says. "Think about it; when what the last time you saw a non-humanoid with skin darker than yours on the bridge of the _Ardent_ or any other cruiser for that matter?" The door to the bridge opens, and Faetōsa is surprised to see Eschrik standing next to Captain Drayen at the ship's central console. The women are appraised by their respective masters. As Captain Drayen ushers Kittani over with a warm smile, Eschrik only sparingly notices his Padawan. It has been three days since she has seen him last, and they had spoken as many words to each other in the last week. What had he been doing in that time?, Faetōsa wonders. She eyes Eschrik and Kittani curiously. Though they were so different, their common thirst for combat had brought them both into Faetōsa's life. And whereas Eschrik thought he needed combat to prove himself a Jedi, Kittani needed combat to prove her value was no less than that of a man. Strange how the war both destroyed and created, Faetōsa mulls.

9

"Commander Rei!" Captain Drayen remarks, looking Faetōsa up and down. "You very much look the part today." She salutes. "Thank you, sir." She looks expectantly towards Eschrik. A distant look in his eyes, the Jedi hardly registers her presence let alone the replacement of her robes. His eyes betray a mental life far from the bridge of the _Ardent._ "I understand you've been doing some flight training with the Lieutenant Commander?" asks Drayen. Faetōsa nods. "Vulture and Boomerang have been a great help too," she adds. Drayen nods in appreciation. "Well, you couldn't have picked better instructors. Those two are a formidable team. Excuse me," Drayen smiles, turning to a report delivered from an attending ensign. While he waits for the Captain's signature, the ensign peers warily at the two women. Kittani raises her brows, and the man looks away awkwardly. "Another day, another drill," Drayen sighs, finally looking up. "Okay, Jayla, why don't you and Commander Rei organize this fire drill down on E Deck. Then I'll put you two back on Alpha watch." Kittani nods. Drayen looks to Eschrik. "General, shall we proceed to our next coordinates? Or would you like to have some words with your Padawan, perhaps?" Eschrik is almost startled by hearing his name. "Yes, Captain. You may proceed. Pardon me." Seemingly without provocation, Eschrik departs, looking sullen. "I'll be in my quarters," he announces to no one in particular. Drayen and Kittani both salute as the Jedi departs, leaving Faetōsa feeling invisible.

10

"Okay, E deck, listen up." The Squadron Leader's voice rings out over a microphone. "This is a drill! I repeat, this is a drill! All hands, to your stations." With a ringing of the flight deck's alarm siren, Kittani inaugurates the organized chaos of the surprise exercise. In a flurry of activity, the deck comes to life. Faetōsa watches the crew of the flight deck take their battle stations, every man in place like a member of a vast albeit disheveled orchestra. Clone soldiers run out thick hoses towards the line of ARC fighters and gunships standing at the ready on the deck; pilots rush to the air traffic control tower to direct fire control teams; human engineers man the pumping stations and electrical systems. Kittani watches with her arms folded, stopwatch in hand. "They should be here by now..." she says aloud. Faetōsa peers down at the flight deck where the deck boss is shouting impatiently. "Let's go, men! Faster now! If this were the real deal, the Big A would need our help! She's got no patience for lollygagging, and neither do I. Now move it!" A troupe of soldiers in heavy fire suppression gear appear. They take up the hoses which have been placed and readied for use by their compatriots. The engineers wave their readiness. As the deck empties of personnel, water erupts from the tubes, and an unused gunship selected for just this purpose is doused in fire-suppressant foam. Kittani clicks her stopwatch and reaches for the microphone. "Well done, E Deck! That's 2:47 seconds, a 12 second improvement over last time! The _Ardent_ thanks you!" A cheer goes up across the deck. "

11

Their drill complete, Kittani and Faetōsa venture from the flight deck to the enlisted mess. Here they rejoin Alpha watch, which is currently at mid-rotation meal. As Featōsa enters, she is nearly overcome by the raucous noise of the hall. A cacophony of discussion, laughter, and music breaks over her, unlike anything Faetōsa has heard aboard the ship before. Above, the huge emblem of the 173rd Legion is emblazoned across the wall. Below, Faetōsa spots Vulture and Boomerang at a long center table. Here, the pilots of the _Ardent'_ s fighter squadron are holding court. Kittani steps to the Pantoran's side. "Let's see. Food's that way, the head's in the back, and the squadron's over there by Vulture." Faetōsa does not move. "What's up?" Kittani asks, clapping her on the back. "Never seen a mess before?" Faetōsa shakes her head. "No. I mean, I've always taken my meals aboard ship alone, or with Eschrik. I just had no idea the crew was this big...or your menu." Kittani smiles. "Well, who did you think ran this cruiser, a bunch of droids? Let's go, I'm starving and I have a briefing to run in twenty minutes." Faetōsa piles a tray high with food and makes her way to the pilot's table, where Kittani has already landed apple in hand. "Tenshun!"cries Vulture and the pilots stand at the ready. Surrounding clones and humans turn to look at the source of the increased silence. Faetōsa blushes, but no one can tell. "At ease?" she offers tentatively; it is enough for the pilots, who greet her as one of their own.

12

"Welcome, Commander, to the greatest feast this side of the Colonies," proclaims Boomerang with false grandeur, his arm sweeping over the squadron's trays. Another pilot scoffs with a chortle, tossing a flaky roll in his direction. "Boomerang, you wouldn't know fine dining if it hit you in the face." Boomerang points at his challenger. "You don't say, Lantern? Then how'd you explain the fact that I eat rooks like you for breakfast every day?" The table jeers, and Lantern gives Boomerang a look but accepts his humbling. As happy conversation break out, Faetōsa doesn't touch her plate. Instead, she just listens to the boisterous table, picking up threads of different discussions that belie, for all their outward uniformity, the inner diversity of the lives of the ship's inhabitants: "So there I was, the Seppy on my six, and had no choice but to dive for it..." "Nah, you got it backwards; shamarok flitters are native to Ithor, not Honoghr..." "If the Headhunters go 10-0 this season, I'll finally come into some credits of my own!" With a smile, Faetōsa lets the conversations blend together until they are indistinguishable. After a moment, she turns her attention to her tray, and begins to ladle heaping spoonfuls of greens into her mouth with earnest, content to let the pilots continue to cavort with one another. A clone sitting beside her leans in her direction. "Name's Dazzle. Beggin' your pardon, sir, but I didn't think Jedi were allowed such an appetite?" Faetōsa looks at the clone in mid-bite. "How 'bout one of the crew, then?" Dazzle winks, knocking on the table. "Aye, that I can see."

13

After a time, the pilots leave the mess in their wake and proceed in mob-like fashion for the ship's ready room. Dazzle walks with Faetōsa, regaling her with stories of the _Ardent'_ s exploits. As they file into the ready room, Dazzle finishes his story: "Then Ravenflight comes diving in, and boom, the Separatist fighter is blown to hell," Dazzles relates, a twinkle in his eye. "I'm only standing here because of her," he concludes, nodding to Kittani at the head of the room. The Lieutenant Commander stands behind a lectern, a look of stern focus attached to her typically easy features. As the pilots take their seats, laughing and joshing each other, Faetōsa leans against the wall. She watches the proceedings with a tinge of envy: here was a real team. Vulture steps to the front of the room. "Alright, settle down, men. The Lieutenant Commander has our orders." In an instant, the Squadron Leader's solemnity is adopted by her pilots. Kittani speaks in a level tone: "Today is day seventeen of our war patrol. As you know, the squadron has one mission and one mission only: protect the Big A. We've been putting up a CAP 'round the clock, and today, we will continue to do so. Vulture, who's up there right now?" Vulture glances at a roster. "Should be Trapper, Streaker, Ion, and Blue." Kittani nods. "Alright, Lantern and Dazzle, you're up next. Be sure to cycle the targeting computers while you're out there." The two pilots nod, jotting down notes. The Squadron Leader closes her notebook, and a small smile turns the corner of her lip. "Alright, the rest of you are stood down, and some of you owe me a game of cards in the rec-room. But there is one other piece of business we must attend to. As some of you know, our friend Commander Rei has been flying with us recently…" – shouts, whistles, and calls of "All right, sir!" brings Faetōsa off the wall – "and I think it's time she got a callsign, don't you?" A roar of approval comes from the pilots, and nearly all decorum of the briefing is lost to their ravenous enthusiasm. "Vampire!" yells Boomerang. "Bull's-eye!" says Gambler "Pan!" offers Lantern. Faetōsa chuckles and waves them off, but they will not be deterred. "Rei-Gun!" laughs Vulture. "How 'bout Fandango?" shouts Dazzle. Kittani looks at the pilot skeptically; he shrugs. "It's the color of her hair, isn't it?" Kittani nods, pleasantly surprised. Vulture throws up his hands, grumbling, "C'mon? Rei-Gun? Get it?" The Squadron Leader looks to the pilots. "How do you all feel about Fandango?" A cheer goes up, and Faetōsa almost noticeably turns the very shade of her new namesake.

14

The briefing concluded, the squadron has relocated to the partially empty storage locker they call their rec-room. Though several pilots have reported to the flight deck, the duties of the combat air patrol are modest enough to allow most of the squadron to carouse at their leisure. The revelry of the rec-room rivals that of the mess. Music plays from crackling speakers, mismatched glasses clink, and a veil of smoke hangs above the ceiling. A ring of pilots including Kittani sit around a table, flicking cards at one another and pulling long drags from an assortment of pipes and thick cigars. Faetōsa sits across from Boomerang, a holographic board between them. Vulture approaches their game. "Who's winning?" he asks with a grin. "Fandango here is giving me a good run for my money, but what can I say, Vulture? I was born a gifted Dejarik player." Faetōsa grunts in concentration and unbuttons the top of her uniform. Vulture chides his friend. "Come now, Boomerang, let the rookie win." With a final smash of the Molator, Boomerang reclines in his chair. "Another day, another victory," he celebrates. Faetōsa sighs loudly and smiles. She fingers Cregan's wooden figure, which is tucked into the folds of her uniform. Could it really be that the little figure had brought her the luck of finally finding friendship after nearly two years of isolation? Loathe though she is to accept such a thing as luck, Faetōsa cannot help but feel very lucky indeed. She leans forward. "Okay, I want a rematch!" Before the two can reset the pieces, however, the door to the rec-room opens with a gasping sound. The music immediately fades. Kittani's voice rings out: "Officer on deck!" The clone pilots leap to their feet, chairs askew. Faetōsa turns to the doorway, her chest constricting. There, Eschrik stands irritably. "Where is my Padawan?" he growls.

15

The master and apprentice stand for a long time by a small viewport, looking out over the stars. Eschrik sighs, gingerly caressing a fresh scar on his shoulder. "Padawan, I came to check in on your studies, but I'm shocked to find you in that gambling den, out of your robes, your Jedi duties totally abandoned. What do you have to say for yourself?" Faetōsa sputters slightly. "Eschrik, I wasn't gambling," she says, resisting his characterization of the situation. "And as for this uniform, Captain Drayen has no problem with me wearing it. And will all due respect, master, as for my Jedi duties, what exactly are you talking about?" Eschrik places his hands behind his back stiffly. "When not serving the Council, a Padawan's duties are to sit in mediation, to practice lightsaber velocities, and to be at her master's side. You must live frugally, without the false gratification of petty entertainments." Faetōsa gestures. "But master, you've been shut away for days, weeks now! I rarely see you at all, and now that I am, I'm not sure your frugal living is working for you. You look exhausted and unhappy." She opens her arms wide in a gesture of openness. "Eschrik, why do you isolate yourself from the crew? From the captain? From me? It wouldn't kill you to cultivate some relationships here, would it?" Eschrik's eyes narrow. Faetōsa's noticed the timbre of her voice, and she tempers her own: "Master Eschrik, what's wrong?" Suddenly, Eschrik raises his own voice. "Do not try and change the subject and make your failures about me, Padawan. You misunderstand our Order and me. Our Code tells us to be above covetousness, whether it be in our relationships to others or materially. They are one and the same. When we deny ourselves these things, we rise above them, and thus master them. I do not partake in relationships as you say because I will not allow them to master me." He turns swiftly on his heel, seemingly incensed. "That is why I forbid you from partaking in any more frivolous fooling about with clones," he snaps. "And take off that haphazard uniform. You're a Jedi. You must learn to cultivate a higher bearing by denying yourself these cheap material pleasures." Surprised at his anger, Faetōsa fumbles with the buttons of her uniform in haste. As she does so, the wooden figure of Jalaila drops from its folds. Eschrik is quicker than his apprentice. "Padawan, where did you get this? How long have you been carrying this idol? " Faetōsa reaches out a hand pleadingly. "Please, it's from a friend." Eschrik's eyes are afire. "A Jedi has no business being in the possession of any material thing, let alone a false idol such as this." Eschrik clenches his fist, the statue cracking in his powerful hand. He deposits the shivers of wood in her palms. "There is only one power in this universe, Rei, and it is the power of the Force."

16

There is silence for a moment. Eschrik scowls, prepared for yet another round of verbal sparring with his headstrong apprentice. Yet Faetōsa turns away and speaks softly, "Why are you punishing me like this?" The Herglic is surprised by her words. He pauses. "I'm not punishing you, Rei. Don't you see? I'm trying to teach you how to be a Jedi," Eschrik replies honestly. Faetōsa is undeterred. "Then how come every time I've tried and talk to you in the last two weeks, you don't seem at interested in having a relationship with me?" she says angrily. Eschrik's voice falls to a hush. "I have had much on my mind..." Faetōsa shrugs. "It's fine. I know that you're punishing me for what happened on Lothal." Eschrik's harsh expression of anger dissolves. This is not the response he was anticipating. "For Dooku's escape?" he asks warily. Faetōsa crosses her arms. "Confronting him was your singular goal for an entire year. When we finally faced him, he got away, and it was my fault that he escaped; if I had been able to escape from under that debris, he would have been able to pursue him. I've been trying to apologize to you since we left Lothal, Eschrik, but you've just been ignoring me ever since. And while I am sorry..." She pauses and rounds on her master, "You don't have to take the things I care about to prove your point." Eschrik shakes his head, but an unseen burden seems to be lifted from his shoulders. He mumbles and then clears his throat. "I admit I may have...struggled being reassigned from pursuing that villain. As much as I, too, regret losing Dooku, we cannot allow emotion to guide our actions," says Eschrik hollowly, unable to mask his own disappointment. "But you must know that I forbid this uniform of yours and purge this false idol not out of retribution, but out of edification. I am trying to instruct you in the ways of the Jedi. As a Jedi, you must not feel such feelings of regret or attachment towards anything that would disrupt your emotions." Eschrik's gaze returns to the stars, accompanied by a long sigh. "Long have I feared that I would make a poor teacher. And when I see you in that uniform, in possession of idols, and spending your time in that den of sin, I see nothing but my own failure." His voice wavers. Now it is Faetōsa's turn to be surprised. Then, with a clench of his fist, Eschrik's voice becomes resolute once again. "But then I remember my training. 'There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.' I _will_ make you a Jedi, Rei, I promise you that. It will be difficult, and I may not earn your respect at every turn. But I will succeed." Faetōsa has rarely heard him speak like this before; she is speechless at his vulnerability. He pauses again. "You know, we are very different, you and I. That's not unlike the relationship between my master Val Aath and myself. Yet it is my hope that our differences do not result in similar estrangement." Faetōsa nods. "Me too," the words springing softly from her lips. Eschrik shows a fleeting smile. "Now, retrieve your robes, please. When you are ready, report back to me."

17

Faetōsa had retraced her steps to her quarters oblivious to the world around her, failing to notice even the pilot who greeted her in the corridor as "Fandango." She was deep in thought as she pulled from her locker her Jedi tunic, aware of its coarse texture and feeling as if she deserved its discomfort. For the first time in over a year, Faetōsa entertains a small flicker of appreciation for her master. She has been so wary, so suspicious of his intentions ever since she had begun to suspect that he had used the Jedi mind trick on her that she had grown almost permanently disdainful of him. But she has only her suspicions, no matter how well-founded they might be, not proof. And into this vacuum of uncertainty she has allowed fear and distrust to fester. She has been so critical of everything Eschrik has done – his decisions to leave the villagers on Drall, the entire mission to Antar Four, his command to engage Dooku on Lothal – that she has grown blind to all that Eschrik had done to help her. After all, had it not been for him, she wouldn't even be in the Order at all. He had even saved her life on Lothal. And Ty would be forever lost. She owed him her allegiance, her confidence, her respect. She had given him none. And still! After all her insubordination, he was the one worried about being a poor teacher, say nothing about her being a poor student! Quickly now, Faetōsa pulls the Jedi tunic over her head and affixes her lightsaber to her belt. Had she tried to learn his lessons with an open mind? Unexpectedly, the questioning voice of her father swims into in her head, a voice she has not heard since Hoth, but in her shame she suppresses this voice. What good had it done? Being reminded that she was empathetic or intelligent had only filled her with self-righteousness, a sense that she had known better than her master. A tide of dishonor rises in her heart.

18

There is a knock. Faetōsa opens the door. Kittani is standing in the corridor. "Tōsa, there you are! After Eschrik showed up, I was beginning to think –" She stops. "What happened to your uniform?" Faetōsa deposits the uniform and insignia in Kittani's hands. "Listen, Kittani. This was a lovely gesture, thank you. Same with teaching me to fly. And allowing me to spend time with you and the squadron. But in spending time with you, I've been derelict in my commitments to my Jedi training, and to my master." Kittani stares at Faetōsa, her eyes greeted only by the opaque blindfold. Then, she pushes the uniform back to its owner. "Keep it, kid. It was a gift." Faetōsa shakes her head. "No, it was a mistake." Kittani's eyes narrow. "Tōsa, you don't mean that." Suddenly, Faetōsa is flushed with bittersweet anger. "And what if I do?!" The Corellian woman is confused. "Why are you talking like this, huh? What did Eschrik say to you?" But Faetōsa does not hear. "Kittani, you don't understand," she chokes. "I've been an ungrateful apprentice, I'm an even worse student, and I bring harm to those I care about!" The words fall out of her like shards of broken glass. Kittani is further taken aback. "What are you talking about? What's wrong, kid?" Hot tears well in Faetōsa's eyes. "My father, Dash, and Cregan...I could have saved them, if only I were stronger." Kittani tries to smile comfortingly. "Did you ever think that maybe they gave their lives for you?," she whispers. "Then I don't deserve their sacrifice!" Faetōsa replies bitterly. "It's what family do," Kittani affirms, placing a hand on Faetōsa's shoulder. "I can't have a family anymore, don't you understand?! I am a Jedi!" Faetōsa shouts as she tries to force the uniform into Kittani's hands. Several soldiers walking the corridor turn and stare. Kittani raises her chin. "They say clothes make the man," she says bitterly, gazing at Faetōsa's Jedi robes. "But in your case, they certainly make the woman."

19

Faetōsa leans off the side of her solitary bunk, her hands clenching her head as if it were about to explode. The uniform lies on the steel plating of the deck where she had thrown it. She squeezes tight her eyes in frustration. Kittani could never understand the strictures of the Jedi Order; she owed her allegiance to her master. It was not as if she had a choice, right?, she rationalizes. Annoyed at this gnawing doubt, Faetōsa gets to her feet. She retrieves the uniform, which she begins to slowly and neatly fold. This mess is of her own doing, she thinks. Had she not been so naive to indulge in the foolish hope that Eschrik would allow her to maintain friendships, Kittani would not now feel betrayed. "Damn it," she whispers aloud, jamming her hands in the folds of her tunic in frustration. She pauses and removes the split pieces of the statue of Jalaila. Though Eschrik could not have known it, his destruction of the statue was deeply suggestive – had he known about his Padawan's liaisons with Cregan, there was a good chance that Eschrik surely would have done the same to the farm boy's body as he had done to his statute. Sighing heavily, she places the broken figure on top of the folded uniform, which she in turn places on the ground in front of her. A discarded uniform of the Republic navy and a broken statue; this was the sum total of Faetōsa's worldly possessions. She considers this pittance. They were only material things, Eschrik would remind her, and true Jedi do not allow themselves to be ruled by their attachments to such paltry material objects. But were they just objects? No, Faetōsa resolves. They were symbols of value which radiated meaning to the young Pantoran woman: Friendship. Affection. Loyalty. No, Faetōsa stops herself, not loyalty - for what loyalty had she shown to Kittani? Faetōsa had sent her only friend in the world away in anger. These materials tokens were all she had left of Cregan. Cregan was gone. But Kittani wasn't. What had she done? Faetōsa leaps to her feet. As she places both the uniform and the shards of Jalaila in her locker, she stands resolute. Her material possessions did not own her, as Eschrik would have feared, but the commitments to the others that they represented surely did.

20

But before she can make a move, Faetōsa is thrown off her feet as a violent explosion rocks the ship. She unsteadily gets to her feet as Captain Drayen's voice rings out: "All hands, battle stations! I repeat, battle stations! This is not a drill!" As a wailing siren replaces the Captain's voice, Faetōsa darts to the door. "No, no, no," Faetōsa mutters, sprinting forth from her quarters. Soldiers and pilots surge down the corridor outside, and she joins the stampede of crew making their way to the flight deck. Faetōsa struggles to keep her balance as the deck bounces and shakes under the reverberations of explosions against the _Ardent'_ s hull. The Captain's voice returns: "Bravo watch, report to damage control. I want all birds in the air, now! Marines, make ready to repel boarders." Faetōsa races past the ready room where the pilots are pouring forth. "Vulture! Boomerang! What's going on? Where is Kittani?" The two men wear steely expressions. "Fandango! Enemy fleet operating behind our lines. Jumped right on top of us." The veteran pilots are grave. Faetōsa asks calmly: "How bad is it?" Vulture dons his helmet gravely. "The CAP got blown away." Faetōsa shakes her head. "Lantern? Dazzle?" Boomerang slowly shakes his head. Faetōsa's voice quickens: "Where is Kittani?" The two pilots start to sprint towards the flight deck: "Ravenflight's already out there!"

21

"Sir, the bridge has been locked down, I can't let you in there," pleads a soldier. Faetōsa grimaces as the ship lurches underfoot. "Just open the door, corporal." He wavers in indecision, and Faetōsa loses what little patience she has. "Now! That's an order!" "Oh hell," he mutters, and manually overrides the door. Faetōsa runs onto the bridge amidst the turmoil of loosely organized chaos. Officers desperately man their panels, organizing fire fighters and engineers, and deploying soldiers to critical points throughout the ship. She sees Captain Drayen as he stands over the ship's holographic well, coordinating the _Ardent'_ s defense. Typically calm and collected in combat situations, the captain now appears rather grim. "I want all fighters to focus their fire on the flagship. Batteries A through D, pinpoint your fire on their shields. Let's see if we can't disrupt their attack." Faetōsa hears a welcome voice crackle over the comm channel: "Yes sir, me and my boys are on it!" Knowing Kittani was out there makes Faetōsa feel a momentary feeling of reassurance. She approaches the captain. "Sir, how can I help?" Drayen looks out the central viewport. "You can tell me what three Separatist frigates are doing in the heart of Republican space. Rei, where is your master?" Faetōsa turns her head. "Is he not here?" Faetōsa says slightly absentmindedly as she grasps the situation with her Force-sight. She can lightly feel the presence of three warships with scores of droid fighters against only a dozen ARC-170s. She can tell that the _Ardent_ is badly outmatched. "Of course I am!" comes Eschrik's voice from afar. "Captain, what is going on?" Drayen turns to the Jedi. "General, we've been engaged by a Separatist task force." Eschrik glances out the viewport at the unfolding battle with a steely gaze. Gone is the vulnerabiltiy and introspection of her encounter with him in the corrdidor, replaced by the remorseless militant. "Very good, Captain. You hold them here. Is my fighter ready?" Captain Drayen shakes his head. "General, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to venture into combat." The Herglic scoffs. "Captain, you cannot stop me from a good fight!" Drayen lowers his voice. "Eschrik, you don't understand. If you leave the _Ardent_ now, there's a good chance you won't have a ship to come back to."

22

Eschrik stares dumbfounded at the captain as the _Ardent_ continues to rumble and shake."Captain Drayen, are you telling me we're about the lose the ship?" the Jedi says loudly. Drayen winces; officers in the control pit below freeze and look anxiously up to their captain. Kittani's voice interrupts from the comm: "Nice shot, Vulture. Gambler, you've got one on your six, look out!" The three stare upward towards the cloud of fighters engaged in a bitter dogfight above the _Ardent._ "I can't shake him!" comes back Gambler's reply. Then comes a sound of lasers, a scream, and silence. Kittani's hardened voice follows: "Gambler is down. All wings, form on me. Let's try and get to the flagship." Faetōsa's face turns pale. Drayen looks back to Eschrik. "Sir, they got in a lucky opening salvo before we could fully charge our shields. My engineers are working on it, but our hyperspace drives are damaged. We don't have enough armor to withstand their fire as we retreat at sub-luminal speeds. I've set course to the nearest planet with a Republican presence, and I'll try and set her down there." Eschrik approaches the console, trying to adjust to the reality of the situation. "And where is that, Captain?" Drayen reaches over the console, and a hologram of a planet springs in the air. "Giju, sir. I suppose I don't need to tell you, but there's a small Republican base there, along with a Jedi mission. It should be enough to –"Eschrik takes a step away from the console. "Not there, Captain," he interrupts. "What other planets are near?" Drayen shrugs in confusion as explosions continue to break out on the hull. "There are none, sir. General, I thought seeing as you –" But Eschrik folds his hands behind his back and turns to the viewport. "Then, Captain Drayen, we have no choice. We will do honor to our Republic and the Jedi Order and fight to the death."

23

The _Ardent_ is bleeding oxygen and coughing smoke into space. Her shields beaten down, the ship's hull is now punctured in many places. Still, the remaining crew inside fights on, as the Venator cruiser claws to put distance between her three assailants, racing desperately towards a brownish-blue planet hanging in space just off the bow. On the bridge, a Herglic Jedi stamps his huge feet. "Captain Drayen! I order you to turn this ship around and face the enemy! That's an order!" But Drayen does not heed the Jedi's demands. "General, I acknowledge your orders. But I am the Captain of this vessel. It is my sole duty to protect it and its crew. Therefore, I deem your plan to stand and fight as an unacceptable risk to my mission, and subsequently as grounds to ignore your orders." Eschrik's eyes narrow. "You cannot do this. This is mutiny." Drayen turns to the Jedi and smiles darkly. "Watch me, General." Drayen then speaks throughout the ship. "Crew of the _Ardent,_ this is your captain. We've lost some good men out there, but their sacrifice makes both me and the Big A proud. But we cannot win this battle – yet we're not going to lose, either. I need you to hold on a little longer; we're going to land the _Ardent_ on the surface of Giju. Engineering, full speed ahead. Stern batteries, give our fighters the help they need against those frigates. All hands, do whatever you can to keep this ship together. Good luck!" A moment of silence hangs over the bridge. Only the sounds of lasers and explosions penetrate the quiet left in the wake of the captain's defiance. Then, a huge explosion illuminates the bridge. The leading Separatist capital ship has erupted into a massive fireball. The Squadron Leader's voice emerges: _"Ardent_ actual, this is Ravenflight. One frigate down!" From deep within the heart of the Venator, a cheer becomes slowly audible: "Dray-en! Dray-en! Dray-en!" The captain winks at Eschrik.

24

Before Eschrik can retaliate at this blatant insubordination, a new series of blasts shake the bridge. Scores of officers are thrown off their feet. Kittani's voice again comes over the comm: Vulture! Boomerang! No!" Faetōsa rushes to the stern viewport, searching the swarm of fighters for her friends. Amid a cloud of droid fighters and a blur of lasers, very few ARC fighters remain. Drayen hails Kittani. "Ravenflight, what happened?" There is a long pause, filled with the sounds of battle. The _Ardent_ continues to shudder. "They're gone, sir." Faetōsa's chest tightens; she slams her fist against the glass. She had just seen them outside the ready room...how could they be gone? Drayen begins to speak, but the _Ardent_ staggers anew under a massive detonation. Everyone on the bridge is flung off their feet, with the exception of the two Jedi. An ensign pipes up as the lights begin to flicker: "Captain, our reactor's been hit! We're losing power now." Another ensign reports. "Our main batteries read offline, sir!" Drayen turns. "How far are we from Giju?" One of the ship's navigators shakes his head. "We need twenty more minutes, sir. But without power, we're slowing down. We're not going to make it..." Drayen solemnly leans over the console. "Alright, Ravenflight. We're out of time. That's enough," he says resignedly. "There's nothing more you can do for us out there. Use emergency coordinates Zeta 333 and get out of here." Kittani relays the message to the remnants of her squadron. Faetōsa watches the remaining ARC fighters break off, save for one. Kittani's voice fills the bridge. " _Ardent_ actual, this is Ravenflight. Thank you, cap'n. I'm going to buy you some time. Fandango, if you're listening out there, I hope you know all is forgiven. That's what friends do, kid." Eschrik's eyes are glued to the closing Separatist frigates, but Drayen stares directly at Faetōsa. She turns to him in alarm. "Drayen, what is she doing?" The captain's face is slack. Faetōsa makes a motion to join Drayen at the console, but she is too late. The second Separatist frigate is enveloped by a colossal blossom of fire and the _Ardent_ is pelted with a shower of debris. Faetōsa wildly scans the space where the ship had been, but she sees nothing but empty space. The comm channel turns to static, and Drayen sluggishly switches it off.

25

As the _Ardent_ closes with Giju, the ship is rocked by a fusillade from the last remaining Separatist frigate. Droid fighters pepper the Venator with lasers and torpedoes, ripping gaping holes in the ship's hull. "Come on, come on," Drayen mutters solemnly, willing the Big A onwards. The crew of the bridge is transfixed; they risk a growing gloom of smoke and sparks to stare desperately at the looming planet before them. As the _Ardent_ approaches the orange atmosphere, the ship begins to groan and disintegrate. Faetōsa's pulse begins to pound as massive chunks of metal begin to break away and burst into flames like meteorites. Eschrik approaches the console as rust colored clouds envelope the forward viewport. "Captain Drayen, you should have made a stand and fought. Now, however, with this accursed planet below, you are precluded from an honorable death. It is long past time to abandon this ship." The captain clenches the console as the lights of the bridge crackle and are finally extinguished. "Full power loss!" An officer calls out. "Reactor is critical! Life support is gone! Hull integrity is down to fifteen percent!" Drayen reaches for the comm. "All hands, you may abandon ship." The officers reluctantly begin to move from their stations. Eschrik grunts and pushes his Padawan towards a passage where several escape pods remain intact. Faetōsa stumbles forward, the deck now at a dramatic incline, turning one last time towards Drayen. "Captain, you must abandon ship!" she pleads. "This isn't just any ship, Commander," he says mutedly. "It's my ship." "Foolish attachment," Eschrik mutters. Just then, the orange clouds part, and a brown ocean dotted with islands emerges below. Drayen is fixated on the waves. "Just like the captains of old," he says, bemused. A calm expression of finality eases the tense grip of battle written on the captain's face, He looks at Faetōsa over his shoulder. "I've got to try," he says sheepishly. "You go now." Faetōsa nods solemnly, retreating from the bridge. Eschrik shouts madly, and the two Jedi claw their way up the inclined deck towards an escape pod. The doors seal behind them and the pod shoots from the bridge at a high velocity, passing through a vast galaxy of tumbling debris. Then, a wall of energy followed by a thundering sound knocks Faetōsa against the wall of the escape pod, spelling an end to her consciousness as she and her master veer inexorably towards the surface of Giju.


	10. Chapter Eight: Nihilism

Nihilism

The total and absolute destructiveness towards one's self and the world at large, compelled by adherence to a morality.

 _"_ _Ahsoka, have you ever wondered if it was right to ignore your emotions?"_

 _"_ _My master would say our struggle as Jedi is to move past them."_ –Jedi Padawan Bariss Offee to Padawan AhsokaTano, _The Clone Wars, "The Jedi Who Knew Too Much"_

 _"_ _Bury your feelings deep down, Luke."_ -Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi to Luke Skywalker, _The Return of the Jedi_

 _"_ _The Council no longer exhibits tolerance towards heretics who believe they have found a superior path that runs counter to the Jedi Order's 24,000 years of accumulated wisdom."_ –Jedi Librarian Restelly Quist, _The Jedi Path_

 _"_ _Who's the more foolish? The fool, or the fool who follows him?"_ -Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi to Luke Skywalker

1

Faetōsa groans. Blinking needlessly, she surveys her surroundings with her restored Force-sight. The surface of the orange planet where she has landed comes into focus. Sitting up from her vantage point in the metal cave, she can discern that her escape pod is buried on a gray rocky beach, its descent leaving a long rut in the pebbles. A vast ocean stretches out as far as Faetōsa can see. Whitecaps curl above the waves that have turned the ocean into a series of valleys and peaks. Thick orange clouds move quickly overhead as slate water laps the shore. The Pantoran feels the light breeze of this alien world pulling at her hair. Where am I?, she wonders. She shivers, and clutches her arms. The interior of the escape pod is cold and empty, but wide footsteps in the pebbles lead away from its hatch. Rising unsteadily to her feet, the memory of the crash comes back all at once. Stumbling out of the pod and onto the stones of the shore, she is met now with a harsher wind pulling at her tunic. She scans the length of the deserted beach, searching desperately for any signs of life. Her search is arrested by a shape on the horizon. In the distance, what Faetōsa judges to be nearly twenty miles, lies the burning wreckage of her one-time home, the Venator-class cruiser _Ardent._ From this distance, what is left of the warship is utterly twisted and deformed. Faetōsa falls to her knees at the sight of this destruction.

2

A shifting sound behind her announces the presence of someone - or something. Yet she cannot be bothered bear to look away from the burning skeleton of the ship. "We got out just in time," Eschrik says over the biting wind. "Not a moment too soon." He folds his trunk-like legs under his large frame, sitting next to his Padawan, his heavy cloak dragged along the beach by gusts of wind. Faetōsa reaches forward and clenches a handful of pebbles mindlessly. The stones listlessly fall from her hands to rejoin their compatriots on the shore. "We left them to their fate, Eschrik. All of them. That was their home and we abandoned it. We just...left." Eschrik stares at the wreck across the waves. "Padawan, look at that ship. There is nothing further we could have done. If, on the other hand, Drayen had stood and fight like I told him..." His voice trails off. Eschrik clears his throat, his voice changing registers now: "I am sorry, Padawan, but the chances that anyone survived that explosion is infinitesimally small." Faetōsa is silent. Unannounced, she stands. "I am going to the wreck to see if there are survivors," she declares. The wind carries smoke from the crash high into the sky as her words ring with defiance. "Even if there is a tiny chance that anyone made it, we owe it the spirit of the crew to search, right? They would do the same for us." Eschrik does not flinch. "Padawan, listen to yourself; that ship is exactly the same as hundreds of others in the fleet; it had a bridge, a squadron of fighters, and a crew of clones, each one like the rest. It is just a ship, a ship that has now crashed; we have no debt to it." Now Eschrik stands, pointing. "We will not go on some fool's errand to the crash site. We must head for the Republic's base here and be off this planet as quickly as possible. This is a dangerous place, believe me." Faetōsa turns and squints. "What if I had stayed aboard, master? Would go searching for me?" Eschrik shakes his head. "Padawan, I will not entertain this game." He runs a hand over his head, speaking ominously. "I am trying to help you; if you go to that crash site, you will find only pain." Faetōsa's eyes narrow. "What does that mean?"

3

Eschrik is silent. He steps towards the water's edge, the wind and waves seemingly reaching out as if drag him under the water. "Dreams are not always visions," he says, hands clasped behind his back. "Even when they are, they are difficult to interpret, even for Consulars..." His words diminish. He picks a stone from off the beach and skips it into the water where it sinks with a splash. "Eschrik?" Faetōsa persists. "After Dooku escaped on Lothal, I began having the same dream every night. It was a vision, a kind of premonition. I saw the two of us in the shadow of great destruction. There, we were met with great sorrow," says Eschrik, looking at the horizon. "I spent a great deal of time to myself during our patrol, trying to divine its meaning. But I could not. In light of this unknowing, I ask you not to go." Faetōsa considers what she has just heard. Then she turns quickly on her heel and retreats to the escape pod. She emerges with a Jedi cloak wrapped around her shoulders and a borrowed sense of courage. "I'm going back," she says trembling. "When I lost both my father and my vision in a great explosion, no one stood around in fear of pain; Pantorans and Republican soldiers alike didn't think twice before they ran to our rescue." Eschrik has a pained look on his face. "There are not going to be any survivors, Padawan. Only scavengers." Faetōsa begins to walk down the beach; Eschrik follows hurriedly. Faetōsa picks up her pace, water splashing her boots as her stride grows. Would Eschrik try and stop her? The Jedi Knight stops and shouts over the wind: "Do not go! You will not find what you seek!" Breathing nervously, she almost begins to run. What distance would render inert the Alter abilities of a Jedi? Faetōsa puts a rod between her and her master before issuing her ultimatum: "Is that an order, master? If not, I am going." There is silence, save for the rumble of thunder in the distance. Eschrik makes no reply. "Fine," the Pantoran says lowly, the sound of her determination in her own voice steadying her. She trudges forward, shaving towards the crash of the _Ardent,_ starkly relieved _._

4

Rain gently rolls down the Pantoran's cloak as she plunges through a wide tidal marsh. The stony beach of her landing has been replaced by wide slicks of mud and shallow ocean pools flanked by tall eel grass. The crash site of the _Ardent_ looms closer now, smoke rising in wide columns dissipating in the wind above like a wounded factory. Faetōsa looks over her shoulder warily. Beyond hailing distance, Eschrik follows his Padawan, his shoulders hunched in a state of resignation. They are not near enough to speak, but it matters little. Had the two been closer in proximity, Faetōsa would not have spoken anyway. Great pain was everywhere, Faetōsa muses; why let this dream of Eschrik's compel them to inaction? Faetōsa squints at his large frame in the distance. She is surprised that he has followed her all this way, and yet made no attempt to close the gap between them. Even after traversing nearly a dozen miles through gathering darkness, she has not slowed. Her great hope for the survival of the crew propels her, certainly, but her fear of what Eschrik might do if she allowed him to catch up drives her forward at greater speed than even her hope.

5

It has grown dark by the time Faetōsa reaches the heart of the crash site. Huge hulks of metal comprising what were once decks honeycombed with corridors, bent beams, shattered hull plates, and broken bulkheads are scattered about like driftwood, illuminated by the raging fires of exploded fuel canisters that pockmark the crash. Shadows flicker over the scene like light falls upon shards of broken glass. Rain drips over torn metal as the constant sound of breaking waves echoes off the metal ruins. Eschrik is nowhere to be seen. Weaving her way deeper into this labyrinthine charnel-house, Faetōsa quivers from the cold. "Hello! Can anyone hear me?" she yells. Instantly, the sound of crunching metal meets her ears. She whips around towards the sound. "Hello?! Are you okay? I'm coming!" She stumbles over bent pipes and steel plates toward the noise, which appears to be emanating from the wreckage of an ARC-170 fighter. Faetōsa's heart flutters; could it be one of the pilots? She approaches the smashed fighter but stops in her tracks. There is a small fire at the base of the fuselage, but it is not the result of the crash; a ring of rocks surrounds it. Nearby lies a stove, a power generator, and several packs full of gear, sheltered by canvas strung up over the wing and deliberately arrayed. Stacks of undamaged armor plating, a row of blaster rifles, and electronic equipment from the _Ardent_ leans against the fuselage. Faetōsa's breath catches in her throat. She takes a step back away from the makeshift camp, her hand reaching for her lightsaber. But a huge shape detaches from the shadows and lurches towards the Pantoran, casting thick arms into the air. A heavy woven mesh envelopes Faetōsa, and she collapses to the ground. Under the weight of the dense net Faetōsa's arms are pinned to her side. Just then, another hulking shape appears and booming laughter fills the air. "Well, well, what have we managed to salvage here?" Faetōsa looks up to confront her assailants, and she gasps. Despite the darkness, the unmistakable faces of two male Herglics are peering down at her.

6

The two Herglic men effortlessly lift Faetōsa to her feet. Though eyesight could not pierce the thick mesh of the net, her Force-sight renders the two perfectly visible. Each is clad in rough working clothes, with the telltale mismatched pauldrons, vambrances, and bandoliers of smugglers or bounty hunters. Yet Faetōsa is hardly cowed by these accoutrements. "You're Herglic!" Faetōsa says with unanticipated animation. The two bandits exchange a look. "What were you expecting, tauntauns?" says the younger of the two. The older chortles, "This here is Giju, after all." Then, a suspicious pause. "Say, you didn't come here to stop us from extracting anything we've taken a liking to, did you, little one?" Faetōsa is confused. "From the ship?" She shakes her head. "No, I don't care about the ship itself." They nod to one another, and the younger lifts the net off Faetōsa in one swift motion. Faetōsa dusts herself off. "No, I'm looking for its crew, any survivors from this crash. Have you seen any?" The older Herglic grunts. "None." Faetōsa lowers her eyes. "A likely story, Eliasz. We all know you would kill anyone who stood between you and a profit," comes a low voice from out of the wreckage. The three in the makeshift camp swivel to see an unexpected figure enter the light of the fire."I told you, Padawan: like flies to manure, so too do bastards like these swarm to this ship. But where's Vladek? Whoring about, I presume. I could have known." Eschrik laughs haughtily, stepping into the illumination of the firelight. His tone turns from mocking to threatening: "Step away from my ship, Ziemo. All of this is property of the Republic and the Jedi Order," he growls. "And I won't allow a couple of petty thieves like you to steal from the me."

7

Faetōsa is about to speak, but she is silenced by Eliasz's loud roar. "You!" he bellows in anger. The Herglic lets out a harsh shout, lowers his shoulders, and charges Eschrik with immense fury. He thunders across the ground in a rage. Though Faetōsa is shocked by this sudden turn, Eschrik is ready; the two Herglic collide with the force of two speeders at full speed. They grapple with one another, thick arms like interlocking tree branches in a violent storm. "Wait, stop!" Faetōsa yells, but Ziemo is already moving. While Eschrik and Eliasz pummel each other with fists the size of boulders, the smaller Herglic casts his net over the two jousting males. Eliasz, anticipating his companion's trap, extricates himself from Eschrik's reach, and Ziemo's net lands squarely on the Jedi. Automatically, it begins to tighten around him. Eschrik shouts in anger, but he cannot move now, and the two Herglic move quickly to restrain him. Shoving him to the ground, Eliasz snarls: "How dare you show your face here, Mdlaren Eschrik?!" Faetōsa steps forward. "What is going on? Let my master go." Ziemo, seeming to forgotten her presence, reaches down and pockets Eschrik's lightsabers. Eliasz, his chest heaving, turns to Faetōsa. "Your master? Girl, I don't care if he was the damn Chancellor of the Republic, captivity is hardly just deserts for the crimes of my worthless excuse for a brother."

8

Faetōsa cocks her head to the side. "Your brother?" Eliasz rounds on Faetōsa now, his earlier jocularity vanished. "Yes, and you'd better stop your meddling, blue skin, unless you want to end up like him." Faetōsa takes a step backward, her hand wandering towards her lightsaber. Ziemo towers over her. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." Faetōsa raises her hands above her head. "Fine. But promise me no harm will come to me, or him." Despite his restraints, Mdlaren laughs. "Padawan, there is no sense in negotiating with these thugs." Eliasz spits on his brother's prone body. "As long as you don't try anything, we won't harm you," says Ziemo. "But I cannot say the same for that coward," nodding towards Mdlaren. Eliasz kicks the prone Jedi in the gut, and Mdlaren winces. "Please," Faetōsa begins, but one look from Eliasz changes her mind. She changes tack: "Please...tell me what is going on. You're all family?" Ziemo sits now, a look of distress on his face. "Do you know where you are, child?" Faetōsa looks to the struggling Eschrik and then back to Ziemo. "The planet Giju." Mdlaren chuckles darkly. "A hive of scum and villainy if there ever was one." Ziemo ignores him. "That's right, home of the Herglic. But Mdlaren, your _master_ " – Ziemo says with scorn – "does not call this planet home any longer, nor does he call us his brothers. Do you know why that is?" Faetōsa plays along. "Well, Eschrik is a Jedi; therefore, the Temple is his home." Now Eliasz laughs. "Wrong, girl. A Herglic's home is always Giju, and nowhere else." Mdlaren is strangely calm; he does not writhe or resist his bonds. Instead he elects to speak quietly. "Padawan Rei, do not listen to these backwards lowlifes who, with their rotten tongues, dirty ideals like honor and duty, words they only pretend to know. In fact, these cretins –" Another blow to the stomach from Eliasz silences him. Ziemo shakes his head. "Enough, Eliasz. Go find the others and bring them here. I'll do the rest."

9

Slowly the rain ceases. Eliasz, laughing greedily, disappears into the darkness of the wreckage in earnest. "Wait until Vladek hears about this! Out of the blue, our long lost brother..." he mutters gleefully. Ziemo and Faetōsa sit around the campfire, leaving Mdlaren prone on the ground in his bonds. "Padawan, I -" he says, but Ziemo cuts him off. "Shut up, Mdlaren. There isn't much time." Mdlaren scoffs, but obeys his brother. Ziemo turns to Faetōsa. "Rei, is it? Blood runs deep on Giju, Rei. You see, Mdlaren has a bounty on his head, put there by our eldest brother Vladek." Faetōsa absorbs this information, and then shrugs. "The Jedi will pay any price to recover one of their own." Ziemo shakes his brown head. "It is not that kind of bounty, Rei. You see, our father Bolek was a powerful warlord –" Now Mdlaren interrupts: "He was a hack consumed by bloodlust who hid behind his family while using violence to steal, kidnap, and destroy his way to power," Mdlaren spits. "What did I say?" Ziemo intones angrily to Mdlaren. The prostrate Jedi is again quiet. Ziemo continue his story: "Our father Bolek ran our entire family, had all number of people reporting to him.. Merchants, smugglers, police, you name it. He was a very important man. He had his fingers in everything: smuggling, gambling, and salvaging. We lived like kings," Zeimo says, a distant look entering his eye. "He might as well have been one." Mdlaren shifts in the net. "Oh, the nobility of lineage, the grace of the patriarch...spare us this blather, please." Ziemo turns now and shouts at Mdlaren. "Damn you, Mdlaren! Don't you see? I'm the one who is trying to spare you!" Mdlaren's expression of resistance slowly gives way to uncertainty. Ziemo's frustration visibly mounting, Faetōsa interjects. "Zeimo, what exactly is going on?" He cracks his knuckles and points at Mdlaren."When Eliasz brings Vladek and the rest of the Eschrik family here, they're going to kill him as a blood traitor."

10

The wind whistles through the carcass of the _Ardent._ At the campsite, the two remaining Herglic are quiet. Faetōsa stands. "Ziemo, why do Eliasz and Vladek want to kill Mdlaren? Did he –?" She stops, afraid to ask. "Did he kill your father?" Ziemo looks at her sadly. "In a way, yes. Bolek's four sons were his lieutenants. We all served him, did his bidding, made the clan strong. He loved us equally, but Mdlaren was his favorite, you see. Our father sheltered him, you understand, kept him out of the family's dirty work. Vladek and Eliasz were his enforcers; they roughed people up, made people disappear. I was the family agent, brokering deals and securing tribute. But Mdlaren got to stay out of the way. That's what father wanted: his youngest was to become an educated man, lift the family's prestige by means beyond violence. While we were father's foot-soldiers, Mdlaren got to study." Ziemo glares at Mdlaren. "Of course, our father grew so powerful that he made many enemies. The Jarnejek clan came, infringed on our territory. The war started small, an armed skirmish here, a kidnapping there. But then, they went right for our father, sending their oldest son as an assassin to kill Bolek in his sleep." Zeimo's voice falls to a whisper now. "When we discovered the body of our father, we brothers assembled. We knew what we had to do. We had no choice, you understand. The ancient laws of Giju demand that a family's sons restore a rupture of justice. We could not allow the Jarnejek clan to go without suffering equally. So we made the _apolaw,_ a Herglic blood pact: we would have our vengeance against the Jarnejek clan or die trying. We all swore." He stops his narrative. Silence hangs over the camp. After a moment, Faetōsa gestures. "Ziemo, I'm sorry, but I still don't understand. What was my master's part in all this?" Ziemo holds Mdlaren's lightsabers. "Out of cowardice, Mdlaren reneged."

11

"Mdlaren took the first opportunity he could to abandon his oath to avenge our father. The Jedi recruiter, who said the gifted Mdlaren had to come and live with her from then on, was an easy excuse to escape the _apolaw_. I should have seen it; as the youngest of the brothers, Mdlaren was scared. Who could blame him? He was desperate for a way out. But Vladek, the eldest, was convinced that Bolek's favoritism shown to Mdlaren should have doubled Mdlaren's commitment to his duty to avenge our father," Ziemo says bitterly. "Instead, Mdlaren left us for the Jedi. He betrayed us, his true family." Mdlaren, who has long been silent, speaks softly. "You're wrong, Ziemo. That is not why I became a Jedi." Ziemo shrugs. "Does it matter? The wizard's order conveniently required you to renounce your ties to you family. I'm sure you had your own reasons for joining that order, Rei, maybe using you magic abilities to escape poverty, or the danger of living on the street, but not Mdlaren. No, he used the Jedi to rid himself of his obligations to his family. From that day on, Vladek put a bounty on his head: a half a million credits for the body." The camp falls silent again, save for the sweep of the wind and the crackling of the fire. Faetōsa stares at her knees. Then, Ziemo stands. "I admit, at the time I thought like Vladek too. I was consumed with hatred for Mdlaren. But then, I had Adlarik, a son of my own. I felt what it was like to be a father. I then understood Mdlaren's life, what our father was trying to do for him, to spare him from a life of hardship. I wanted the same for my boy. But the _apolaw_ ran its course." Ziemo's eyes glisten. "The Jarnejek came to murder my son in the name of justice. Adlarik barely escaped with his life." Ziemo stands. "Since that day, I thought, if that's what justice truly is, then I've lost interest in having it." He kneels by the prone Jedi. "I forgive you, Mdlaren." Ziemo bends down and withdraws the net from around his brother. Mdlaren stands, and Ziemo puts a palm on his shoulder. With a swift motion, the Jedi places his hand on Ziemo's wrist and turns it backwards. Ziemo cries out sharply, and Faetōsa leaps forward. With expert motion, Mdlaren flips his brother to the ground, placing a foot over his throat. Faetōsa screams. "Master, no!"

12

Mdlaren wears a flat expression. "Did you really think you could dupe me so easily with an invented story, Ziemo? Let that be a lesson, Padawan: never trust the words of brigand." Before Eschrik can retrieve his lightsabers, a rumbling sound overwhelms the camp. White lights spill into the clearing of wreckage; a transporter whines to halt. Large shapes move in the light, and a crowd of Herglics emerge from the glare. At their head is Eliasz. "Brother, I've brought the family," he says triumphantly. "I called Vladek, he's on his way –" Eliasz freezes at the sight of Mdlaren standing over Ziemo. Before Eliasz can act, a new voice speaks first. "Father?" Faetōsa turns to see a smaller Herglic boy with one arm step from beside Eliasz. "Adlarik," Ziemo sputters from under Mdlaren's boot. Adlarik looks to Mdlaren seemingly unfazed. "So you are my Uncle Mdlaren. It's good to finally make your acquaintance. I've never met a Jedi before." Faetōsa is surprised by this boy's poise and composure. Adlarik points to Eschrik's foot on his father's neck. "But I must ask you, uncle: what drives you to treat my father with so much hatred?" If Mdlaren is as shocked as his apprentice to see Ziemo's son in the flesh, he does not show it. "I have news for you, boy," Mdlaren snarls, scanning the crowd of relatives. "Your father, your uncles, your whole family is not who you think they are. Your family is a pack of wolves, beasts who sow devastation for sport, for money, for power. They bully, they kill, and they are filled with hate! I am doing what I have to do to survive." Elaisz punches his fists together and growls, but Adlarik is unmoved. "Forgive me, sir, but look at yourself. Who would you say is filled with more hatred?" Mdlaren looks down at his choking brother. He sees his own articulated veins, feels his pulse pounding, hears his brother's gasps for air. A frenzied look comes over him, and in this moment of hesitation Eliasz and several other Herglic move to surround Mdlaren. As they close, Faetōsa speaks gently. "Let him go, master." The Jedi whirls to stare at his forgotten Padawan, to his assailants, and back to Ziemo. Eyes wide, Mdlaren slowly removes his boot from Ziemo's throat. Elaisz closes in on his brother.

13

Master and apprentice sit in the cargo hold of the transport, caked with mud, weaponless, their hands bound. Outside, the sounds of Herglic voices can be heard in the midst of heated argument. Faetōsa shakes her head. "Master Eschrik, why didn't you tell me?" The Herglic is stiff. He says nothing. Faetōsa leans her head against the wall. "You know, the death of my father set events into motion that led me to join the Jedi too. I can relate to your past more than you think." An image of Ty flashes in her mind, and she her lips curl in a clandestine smile. "No, Padawan, I think not," Eschrik says mutedly. Yet this sentiment finally dislodges Eschrik from his reverie. He begins to shake his head. Faetōsa stares at him with a measure of pity. "Why not? My father was very kind to me as well. He wanted the best for me too; the best school, the best home, the best parents." Eschrik closes his eyes. "I never told you why I joined the Jedi Order. It was not as Ziemo said." The Pantoran surveys the Herglic as he begins to say his piece, his voice filled with the candor that comes from exhaustion. "Bolek may have had me educated, but he was no great saint. His benevolence was fueled by his schemes for more power. An educated son was useful as an interpreter, a diplomat, an ambassador. I was still his pawn, educated or not. We all were. But none of us could see it. We only saw him as our champion, our general. My brothers worshipped him. I rationalized his greed as petty thievery, telling myself that we needed money to put food on the table. We became wealthy, but from what? Ill-gotten gains. Once Bolek made my brothers start killing for his own profit, I saw my family for what they were: petty criminals. Yes, even Zeimo killed in Bolek's name. They were dishonorable in every way, but they found a way to bend Giju custom to justify their heinous acts. When Bolek finally got what was coming to him, I thought I'd finally be free from it. But Vladek wouldn't let me. They were going to avenge him, per the dictate of Herglic custom: an eye for an eye. The _apolaw_ is merely an excuse for murder. It was foolish!" Eschrik's voice is tinged with anger, and he shouts, slamming his fist against the steel prison of the transporter. Then, he shakes his head. "No. I cannot give into this anger." Faetōsa looks at her master. "Eschrik, if there was ever a time for your emotions to be justified, this is it."

14

Eschrik shakes his head vigorously. "No, Padawan. The Code says, 'There is no emotion, there is peace.' Allowing myself to feel this emotion is precisely the weakness I left this planet and became a Jedi to overcome. When the Jedi recruiter came to Giju those years ago, she came to me right after we swore the _apolaw._ I was so ashamed at what I had done, what I had agreed to do..." Eschrik grimaces. "But then she told me of my power, told me I could join the Jedi Order, to fight for peace, the rule of law, and real justice. I yearned for the discipline, the virtue, the resolve of the Jedi. As a Jedi, I could atone for my sinful pact. And so, I left to become a Jedi, returning to Giju only in secret to train my mind, to steel my resolve, and to repent at the site of my great failure." Eschrik lifts his arms feebly, reigned by his bonds. "But now, look at me. Shamed into inaction by the words of a mere boy. Adlarik was right: I was filled with hatred for my family. I let the Dark Side enter me. How I have failed." He shakes his head anew. "Master, I don't think –" Faetōsa begins, but Eschrik continues, the momentum of his truth compelling him on. "No, Padawan. There is never a justification for a Jedi to feel hatred. It leads to fear, and fear leads to the pandemonium of the Dark Side. 'There is no chaos, there is harmony,'" Eschrik recites the Code as if to keep doubt at bay. "I thought I was better than this..." He growls in anguish. Faetōsa senses that something has broken within Eschrik's heart; her master's defenses against his emotions are, for the first time, eroded. She listens curiously, but also fearfully, as Eschrik confesses: "Rei, I have failed. I failed in my heart to resist the Dark Side. I failed in battle to capture the Dooku. And I've failed you as a teacher." He hangs his head. "I have failed as a Jedi."

15

She looks to the disheveled Jedi beside her. For all Eschrik's physical size and imposing personality, for the first time Faetōsa feels bigger than her master. She has felt the same doubt of succumbing to the Dark Side by entertaining her anger; indeed, Val Aath had died in her arms accusing her of succumbing to the same evil. But Faetōsa had long ago decided being inundated by the guilt the Code placed on her conscience for a natural feeling like anger or fear was deeply destructive. Was Eschrik experiencing this doubt for the first time? At this moment Faetōsa realizes she has something to teach her master. Haven't we all witnessed another person grapple with a problem that threatens to overwhelm them, only to draw upon the insight of our own experiences in order to shrink it down to size? Faetōsa turns to Eschrik, and the ensuing words stumble out of her mouth: "I know we have had our differences over the years, Master Eschrik. But you have not failed as a teacher. I've learned much about the Force from your tutelage, and..." – she chooses her words carefully – "Your example has compelled me to change in ways I never thought I would." Was that the right thing to say?, Faetōsa wonders. Eschrik hangs his head lower still. "You still do not understand," he whispers. "I have betrayed you most of all, Faetōsa."

16

Faetōsa tenses. Her name brought to life by his voice for the first time falls on her ear like a foreign tongue. Instantly, she senses something is about to happen. "I did a terrible thing to you, for which I have long been repenting." Eschrik gestures with his bound arms over his shoulders, towards his back. Faetōsa's eyes widen. "Your scars?" Eschrik nods. "My flesh is a paltry compensation for the depth of my sins." A shiver descends down Faetōsa's spine; what she has long suspected is about to be confirmed. "On Drall, before you had learned the skill..." Faetōsa shakes her head, leaning away from the Herglic. "No...no, I don't want to hear this." An image of an inclined iris losing its balance in fills her mind, and Eschrik's voice begins to fade, as if spoken from a great distance. "You were disobedient, and I did not know how to make you comply." Faetōsa feels like she is sliding downwards, as if the ground has evaporated beneath her. "A better, more patient teacher would have known what to do. But I did not." Bubbles of hidden memories floating on a black lake are suddenly exposed by harsh light. Faetōsa springs to her feet in horror, a feeling of nakedness and nausea trapping her, but there is nowhere to go. "No Jedi should ever used the Force to manipulate another Jedi." Faetōsa feels the pit of her stomach fall away. "I entered you…saw your mind...to gain your compliance..." Eschrik's voice fills the spinning space of her mind, and Faetōsa braces herself against the wall. "I am sorry, Rei." The apology echoes in her ears as if her mind is an empty chamber. "That's something," Faetōsa gasps wryly. "An expression of contrition from a Jedi, who is trained to feel nothing. How rich." Breathing quickly, the Pantoran hardly registers the opening of the cargo bay to reveal Elaisz and Ziemo standing over her. "Come with me," Eliasz says to her. Then, noticing her distress, Ziemo adds, "Please." Faetōsa springs from the transport.

17

Faetōsa's head is wracked by a numbing ring and her stomach roils. She feels as if she will cry, but the tears do not materialize. Outside, dawn approaches. She pays little mind to the crowd of Herglic that now fill the camp. "Look," Ziemo points. Faetōsa follows his gaze. Amidst a canyon of wreckage not too distant, a Republic gunship has landed in a clearing. Clone soldiers clamor about the detritus of the _Ardent_ , while medics carry empty stretchers, searching for survivors. "If they find us, we won't be able to take our salvage, or have our justice," mutters Elaisz to Ziemo. "You will distract them while we wait for Vladek to arrive," the Herglic says, releasing the Pantoran from her bonds. Faetōsa rubs her wrists silently. "But I warn you, girl," scowls Eliasz, "If you double cross us or lead them here, we'll kill your master before you have a chance to save him." She looks up at the Herglic. "So be it," she says flatly. Eliasz grunts at this unexpected response. Faetōsa turns, and shuffles off toward the gunship. Ziemo follows her out of the camp. "Try and buy me some time," he whispers. Faetōsa nods noncommittally. Ziemo sighs and turns away. Faetōsa walks through the charred debris of the wrecked ship in a state of deadness. There was no more pretending: like she had peered intrusively into the mind of the Twilek servant girl Savath and battled her willed, so too had Eschrik had been inside her mind, where he had undoubtedly seen the things that she had hidden there. Faetōsa begins to walk faster, then jogs, and then launches into a full sprint. She pumps her aching legs, her lungs burning, as if the exertion might purify her of her troubles. A contorted metal pipe catches her boot mid stride, and she collapses to the muddy ground. The Pantoran lays where she has fallen, catching her breath. She shivers and clenches her hair, as if she could claw out his presence. She expects tears, but they will not come. Then, a voice: "Look! A survivor! Over here!" A Republican soldier in white armor rushes to her side. "Medic, over here!" A figure dressed in white appears. Faetōsa hears a gasp.

18

"Faetōsa Rei, is that you?" Faetōsa freezes, not trusting her ears. "My word, it is you!" says the voice. Nausea forgotten, Faetōsa jumps to her feet, brushing aside the soldier trying to help her up. A rush of warmth and affection propels her upwards. Faetōsa's Force-sight takes a moment to focus, but even before she can see, she is certain of the identity of the glowing figure standing before her. "Ty?!" Faetōsa takes a stuttering step forward and wraps her arms around Ty. The two Pantoran women sway for a moment in each other's arms. "Ty...Ty, oh, I've missed you so much!" Now Faetōsa's tears come, but they are not bitter, not in the least. The astonished medic smiles briefly, a look of disbelief welling up from inside. "Fae, what are you doing here?" Ty tries to pull away to look upon Faetōsa, but she won't let go of Ty's white tunic. For Faetōsa, time seems to stop. Her days at the Temple, the battle at Garos, the death of Val Aath, her rescue of Ahsoka, her duel with Dooku, all of it had lead to this moment. Faetōsa laughs through tears; though she had always known the destination, the route to this moment had long been veiled to her. Now, they were reunited. "I can't believe you're really here," she chokes. Finally, Ty holds Faetōsa at arm's length. "This is where I've been assigned by the Medical Corps, Faetōsa! It's my duty to be here! The better question is, how did _you_ get here? We thought no one could have survived the explosion of the ship's reactors. What were you doing aboard a Venator cruiser in the first place?" Then, Ty issues a sharp intake of breath. "Fae, why are you wearing Jedi robes?"

19

Faetōsa grips Ty's hands in hers. "Ty, I have so much to tell you. When that Jedi recruiter took you, I vowed to follow you. I joined the Order because of you. I've become a Jedi so that no one could take you from me ever again. Ty, I became a Jedi for you!" Ty stares back in disbelief. "What do you mean, for me?" Faetōsa beams. "It was amazing, Ty. After that Jedi Knight Tyr Conzan took you from me, I was besides myself. I mediated to keep calm, just like you taught me. And I discovered that not only could I see in ways I never could before, but I could move objects with my mind. It was the Force, Ty! So I vowed to find you by becoming a Jedi," Faetōsa grins. "And now, here you are!" Ty shakes her head incredulously, her hands falling to her side. "Wow, you're Force-attuned? That's incredible, Fae," she says, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "I knew, ever since I met you in that hospital, that there was something special about you." Faetōsa grins widely. Her spirit soaring, Faetōsa can hardly remember the qualms of the camp she has recently left, nor does she detect the air of regret on Ty's voice. "And look! A Padawan's braid!" Ty says, smiling thinly. Faetōsa fingers the thread of hair. "But wait," Faetōsa starts eagerly, "where is your braid? Where is your master?" Ty shrugs. "Oh, I don't have one." How fortunate!, Faetōsa considers saying, but decides against it. Ty looks down. "These are the white robes of the Jedi Medical Corps. When Conzan discovered I was not a Force-sensitive, he sent me to the Reassignment Council." Faetōsa stands still; she remembers the glowing, illuminating effect that her affection for Ty had caused when the Jedi recruiter had come to seize her. Faetōsa says nothing. Ty's unsteady smile returns. "But the Masters there were very kind. They allowed me to stay in the Order and remain a Jedi. I became a part of this division because of my nursing background, of course. Now I go where the Council needs me." Faetōsa stares back incredulously. Ty raises a brow. "What's wrong, Fae?" The Padawan shakes her head. "I don't understand, Ty. Why would you choose to remain a Jedi if you cannot use the Force?"

20

Ty stands rigid. Quickly, Faetōsa realizes that she has erred. "I mean, not that being a Force-inert Jedi isn't, you know, worthwhile," says quickly. But this in not much better, and Faetōsa winces slightly at the sound of her own words. Yet the damage is done. Ty holds her head high. "The Jedi who serve in any of the Corps, whether they are in the Agricultural, Educational, Medical or Exploration division, are considered to be honorable members of the Order, just like you Padawans." Faetōsa shakes her hands aloft, trying to muster a response to this rehearsed rhetoric. "No, Ty, I never meant it like that, I'm sorry. It's just that..." She pauses to stare at Ty. "Ty, being a Jedi has been incredibly challenging." She pauses. "The Order has taken a great deal away from me, including, well…including you. I would imagine you've struggled with that too, right? And so the idea that anyone would endure the Code when you don't have to...well, it baffles me, quite frankly." Ty places her hands on her hips. "The Jedi fight to protect others, to protect peace and justice. I'm a part of the Order because I want to be, Faetōsa." Faetōsa picks up Ty's hand and places it between hers. "Ty, so am I. But I have to tell you, I really only joined the Order so that we could be together. Because...I love you, Ty." Ty pulls away her hand and closes her eyes. "Faetōsa, I can't do that." Faetōsa's brow furrows. "Why not? Don't you remember my feelings for you? How we both feel?" Ty glances furtively around her, as if to make sure no one is listening. "Faetōsa, you of all people should know that such relationships are forbidden by the Code!" she whispers sharply. Faetōsa takes a step backwards. "Ty, I don't give a damn about the Code! I don't want rules, I want you!" Ty shakes her head slowly. "Stop it, Faetōsa. That was a long time ago. Now, I am a Jedi. _You_ are Jedi! It pains me to hear you speak so ill of our Order." Faetōsa's face burns. "Ty, what are you saying?"

21

A squall overtakes the crash site. The pitter and patter of rain on metal interrupts the silence of the two Pantoran women, each locked in a disbelieving stare. "I cannot be with you, Faetōsa." Ty finishes. A chill comes over Faetōsa. Her skin turns clammy. Her veins feel like ice-choked rivers. "Why are you doing this, Ty? Why are you choosing the Jedi over me?" Ty turns away, a new tenderness in her voice. "Fae, when I left home with Conzan, I too was very sad. It was painful to leave you behind. But the Code taught me how to transcend the disorder of emotions like sadness, pain, and even love. The Jedi Code tells us, 'There is no passion, there is serenity.' Over time, I grew up. And I found that serenity." She gazes up at the sky. "Fae, did you know that I had never even been off of Pantora before Conzan took me into his tutelage? As a Jedi I've traveled all over the galaxy, Faetōsa! Not only have I seen so many wonderful things, met amazing people, but I'm helping to win this war over the forces of evil. I've been able to heal so many people with my skills, things I never could have done back home." She turns to face Faetōsa. "But more than anything, Faetōsa, the Order has given me a sense of purpose. At home, I was childish; I worked a job and lived at home doing...what, exactly? Nothing. Now, I have a calling. I'm a part of something important. The Jedi have shown me the larger truth about the universe. They've taught me that my material possessions and attachments distract from being one with the world around me. I've learned to live selflessly, to give everything I have for others. I have a moral compass where I never had one before. And even though the Force doesn't speak directly to me," she says, slightly indignant now, "I know it listens to me." Faetōsa does not move. Ty frowns. "There is no going back, Faetōsa. I would say I am sorry, but...well, you should know." "Know what?" Faetōsa sputters. "You know," Ty says a little sheepishly. "'There is no emotion.'"

22

Something turns over inside Faetōsa. Like a key inserted into a lock, the Pantoran woman feels as if Ty's words have opened some new chamber in her heart – or was it her mind? – into which seeps, then trickles, then floods, and finally cascades all the insights gleaned from her time as Padawan in the Jedi Order. Faetōsa's clenches her fists. "The Force does not have a voice, Ty. It does not speak to anyone." Faetōsa is unprepared by the pointedness of her own words. This idea is one that has welled into her new reservoir of introspection, a pool from which she had not expected to draw from in this conversation with Ty. "The Force is the thread which unites the fabric of the world around us. But it isn't weaving of a tapestry with a comprehensible picture of our lives. The Force is what is." Ty is mildly surprised at this discursus; a look of respect animates her expression. "You've done of great deal of thinking on the nature of the Force, it seems," says Ty, smiling warmly. But Faetōsa does not reciprocate. "No, I have not. But I have done a great deal of feeling." Faetōsa's mind races, her mouth almost unable to keep up with her thought. Her tenor becomes sharper. "But you're right about one thing, Ty: you and the Jedi surely regard it as your duty to interpret the Force as if it were speaking. You've become convinced that the Jedi are mighty translators of the Force. And you've decided to take their words over mine, words that forbid rather than embrace love." Ty's frown returns. "I'm sorry, Faetōsa, but you're wrong. I may not understand how the Force speaks, but I know in my heart that the words of the Jedi are worth listening to." Faetōsa leans forward and points at Ty. "Then damn your ears for hearing the words of the Jedi, Tynaki, and forsaking the words from my heart." She turns and walks away.

23

Faetōsa stalks the wreckage after her unexpected encounter with Ty _._ After these two years travelling all across the galaxy biding her time to return to the Temple to see Ty, out of nowhere, Ty suddenly appeared at her feet. And now what? Now she is alone. Her way is made slippery with rain and growing tide pools and the cacophony of too much thought. Her mental horizon, so clear and focused over the last two years on how to find the one she loved, is now strewn with mental debris, wreckage that rivals the scope of the ruins that her feet now navigate. Her feelings for Ty, her singular constant over dozens of months, is vaporized. Without this focusing lens of this pursuit, Faetōsa' mind is haunted with images and thoughts she has long kept at bay. Where was she going? Where are her father, Val Aath, and Cregan now? Were Major Reth and Captain Drayen with them? Had Kittani died knowing the they were still friends? And Eschrik...what about him? Faetōsa almost wallows at the thought. Each of these considerations brings a new and painful burden to Faetōsa's already overwhelmed heart. She feels a great weight welling in her chest, which seemingly threatens to pull her to the ground as if a rug has been pulled out from under her, that she is falling through empty space, so that Faetōsa hardly notices when she stumbles back into the Herglic camp.

24

Instantly, Faetōsa feels a wave of immense hostility. The entire Eschrik clan has gathered, men and women, brothers and sisters, cousins and retainers all. They ring the camp fire as if in council. Ziemo stands at the center, Adlarik at his side. Elaisz stands in front of the others, clamoring and calling for Mdlaren's head. When Ziemo spots Faetōsa, he looks immensely relieved. "Finally! Rei, come here, please, and talk with us." Elaisz scoffs. "Enough, little brother. I have no interest in listening to the blue skin. Nothing she can say will change my mind. We want the cowardly betrayer dead!" The crowd roars in agreement. Ziemo waves his hands. "Listen to me. Mdlaren has been apart from us for more years than he spent here growing up. We don't know who he is anymore, whether he really deserves to be put to death." "Of course he does!" Eliasz shouts, "he betrayed the _apolaw_ and betrayed our father! Nothing can change that. Now change your vote and set a good example for your son here. That way, when Vladek arrives any minute now, the family speaks with one voice and can finally avenge our father's death!" The Herglic clan beat their chests in endorsement, and Ziemo is nearly overwhelmed by their jeers, until Adlarik speaks. "I for one am only willing to change my vote once I hear from her." The young Herglic points to Faetōsa. The family falls silent. Adlarik beckons to Faetōsa. "Speak, Rei. Does my uncle, your master, deserve death? We will listen." All eyes turn to her.

25

The doors to the cargo hold swing open where Mdlaren sits in repose. The Jedi Knight has steeled himself for what is to come; now he opens his eyes. His vision is greeted by Faetōsa holding his lightsabers and his staff. His expression of confusion is only compounded upon the sight of Ziemo and Adlarik, who proceed to loosen his bonds. Mdlaren searches the faces of each of his rescuers, dumbfounded, but he utters nothing. He climbs down from the transporter. The fire doused, the campsite empties. The remainder of the Eschrik family begrudgingly disperses, picking over the crash site for anything of value to make their trek here worthwhile. Eliasz and several other burly Herglic glare at Mdlaren and brush past him brusquely as they load the freighter with equipment taken from the crash. Neither Jedi makes any move to seize their spoils. Climbing into the cockpit of the transporter in disgust, Eliasz mutters to his brother, "If I ever see you again, I'll put you out of your misery myself." As the freighter lifts off the ground and speeds off, Mdlaren watches Ziemo and Adlarik shake hands with his Padawan. Then, high overhead, a Republican gunship appears over the clearing. Clone soldiers with electrobinoculars point in their direction from its gun deck, and the ship begins to descend. Ziemo makes to leave; Mdlaren and his brother exchange a knowing look, and Ziemo nods. Adlarik waves to Faetōsa and follows his father in the labyrinth of the wreckage as the gunship sets down in a blast of air. Faetōsa walks towards Eschrik, extending out his lightsabers. He places them on his belt and looks at her. "What did you say to them?" he asks finally. Faetōsa is stone-faced as she replies, "I told them the truth. I told them that I didn't want to lose the only person the Jedi Code has left in my life."


	11. Chapter Nine: Dispathy

Dispathy

A lack of sympathy or want of passion on the part of an adherent to a morality.

 _"A Jedi is a Jedi, first and foremost, and only. For a Jedi to divide his attention between the will of the Force and the will of others is to invite disaster."_ -Jedi Master Hoche Trit, _Power of the Jedi Sourcebook_

 _"_ _Your thoughts dwell on your mother."_

 _"_ _I miss her."_

 _"_ _Afraid to lose her, I think."_

 _"_ _What does that got to do with anything?"_

 _"_ _Everything."_ –Jedi Masters Ki-Ad-Mundi and Yoda to Anakin Skywalker, _The Phantom Menace_

 _"_ _Always put purpose ahead of your feelings."_ –Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker to Padawan Ahsoka Tano, _The Clone Wars: "Front Runners"_

 _"_ _A Jedi does not feel concern."_ –Jedi Master Shaak Ti, _The Clone Wars: "Clone Cadets"_

1

Climbing up the steps of the Jedi Temple, Faetōsa lags behind Eschrik. It had been almost two years since she had last walked these steps, and this was not the return she had so long imagined in her private moments. Those visions had always included Ty. After Eschrik's admission of his mental invasion, Faetōsa thought she had felt betrayed. But then she had seen Ty, and the meaning of the last two years of her life had simply evaporated. Her mind had been numb ever since. The journey from Giju had been long, uncomfortable, and largely silent. Neither Jedi had been in particularly high spirits when they had reach Coruscant. Though she trudged along as if she remained stuck in the marshes of Giju, Eschrik seemed to become more enlivened with each step toward the Temple. He seemed to gain vigor in the shadow of its sloping walls. When they came to stand before the entrance, Eschrik stopped. Clearing his throat, he announces unexpectedly: "Padawan, I have had a long time to think during our transit here. I had much to reflect upon." Faetōsa halts. Gone was the doubt and ambiguity she had heard in her master's voice on his homeworld. "I know that I have...disappointed you. I have disappointed myself," Eschrik says. "But I think I have a way to make it up to you," the Herglic says earnestly. "To us." Faetōsa remains quiet as Eschrik steps aside to reveal three Jedi standing before the Temple. Each Jedi Faetōsa recognizes: the first is Master Jerneja, her teacher at the Temple. She had been the one who had taught Faetōsa to suppress her feelings for Ty. The second is Master Cin Drallig, the man she had begged for admission to the Order to pursue Ty; the third is Knight Tyr Conzan, the man who had taken Ty from her on Pantora all those months ago. Her gaze lingers on Conzan, but Faetōsa blinks and looks away, trying to expunge Ty from her thoughts. She was no longer welcome there. Eschrik, however, takes no notice of his Padawan's turmoil, saying proudly, "Padawan Rei, your journey to Knighthood reaches its conclusion today. Today, your Jedi Trials begin."

2

Faetōsa mouth falls open. A Jedi Knight? Now? The very idea casts the scene around here in an entirely new light. She looks at the Temple's massive facade, which looms more like a prison now than a refuge. In her mind, images of Pantora flash before her, its stark blue steppe and swirling snow. If this ceremony was completed, would she ever see them again? "Master Eschrik, I am not sure...if now is the right time for this," she murmurs weakly. The Herglic waves over the three Jedi instructors. "Nonsense, Padawan. You've grown very quickly over these past years, and I am confident you are ready to become a Jedi Knight." Now Eschrik's voice is tinged with pride, but Faetōsa cannot help but wonder who this overture is really for. "She may be ready, Mdlaren, but she is still very young," says Conzan as he arrives at the Herglic's side. Eschrik bows to each, ignoring Conzan's remark. "Thank you all for coming on such short notice." Drallig smiles. "Our pleasure, Mdlaren. Although the timing of this trial is somewhat accelerated, the gumption of your Padawan has impressed me since the first day she arrived here. In fact, Tyr, did you know that Rei realized that the apprentice you tried to take, was actually not the Force-sensitive that you thought she was? A remarkable insight, don't you think?" Conzan shifts uncomfortably. Master Jerneja crosses her arms. "She was a difficult student, Mdlaren," she says stiffly. "But in this time of war, our ranks grow thin. I've Knighted Padawans with less training than her in my time. From what I can tell, you've done a fine job, Mdlaren. If she passes, she may just make you a Master after all." Eschrik puts his hands on his wide hips. "Thank you for your kind words, Masters." He turns to Faetōsa. "Padawan Rei, the Jedi Council has endowed us with the authority to test your readiness to ascend to the rank of Jedi Knight. Are you ready?"

3

Faetōsa has no chance to respond. Even if she had the opportunity, what would she have said? "You will face Five Trials, three of which will be conducted today by a member of each Jedi Class: A Guardian, a Consular, and a Sentinel," Eschrik lectures. "As your Master, I will oversee the final two." Her breath quickens. Was there any way out of this? "When you pass these trials, you will abandon your Padawan braid and take up the full robes of a Jedi Knight." Faetōsa is still, her anxiety rushing a hundred schemes of evasion through her mind. "Master, what if I fail?" is all she can manage. Eschrik smiles gently. "The Council will decide your fate then. But worry not," the Herglic intones, "for you will not fail." He nods to Master Jerneja, who steps forward. "Padawan Rei, I am a Jedi Consular. I will host your first trial, the Trial of Insight, a challenge that will test your ability to distinguish reality from illusion." Master Jerneja closes her eyes and begins to concentrate. "Of course, illusions come in all kinds. Most are visual. For you, however, we will try another kind: that of the mind." Before the steps of the temple, the tips of round green foliage begin to emerge from the marbled ground. Faetōsa leaps aside as a row of trees sprouts and begins to grow upward. "These trees are made from the pure energy from the Force, and as such, you will not be able to pass through them," says Jerneja, her eyes still closed. As the rapidly growing vegetation rises higher still, Jerneja begins to step away. "To pass this Trial, you must escape this labyrinth. But beware: to do so, you will have to best the ghosts of three Sith Lords." Faetōsa blinks dumbly under her blindfold. Sith Lords? "Wait, how is that possible?" she demands, standing on the tips of her toes. The trees are expanding rapidly now, and only Jerneja's head remains to be seen. "I have studied the records of the Temple Archives and created a program to emulate their personalities based upon what the Order knows of their characteristics in life," Jerneja says matter-of-factly. "Some is history, part is legend. All will test you. May the Force guide you through these encounters, where many Jedi of old have failed," she says, the trees now tall enough to finally obscure her from view. The forest creates narrow paths heading off in divergent directions. She is literally trapped in this trial. There was to be no escape; there was only one way out. Faetōsa grips her lightsaber anxiously. Looking both ways, she sets off, resigned to her fate - for the moment.

4

For a time, Faetōsa stumbles impetuously around the labyrinth. Every corridor seems to lead to a dead end. When she is stopped, she turns around and heads off in a new direction, her frustration mounting. Turning a corner she swears she has never seen before, Faetōsa finds herself in another familiar dead end. Grumbling, her aggravation finally overcomes her anxiety. The violet blade of her lightsaber springs forth. "Okay, Sith Lords, enough. This maze has no exit. Come out to face me and let's get this over with!" "Who are you to demand a confrontation with a Dark Lord of the Sith?" calls a gravelly voice. Faetōsa whirls around, holding her blade upright. A giant of a man blocks her path, clad in onyx plate armor shrouded by a black cloak. His jaw is covered by a mask, a black respirator of sorts; his voice is distorted. Faetōsa trembles and readies her lightsaber. "Put that away, girl. I know what I am," the Sith hisses, studying his clenched fist, an appendage of a hologram. Faetōsa steps forward gingerly and waves her saber at the Sith. He holds up his arms and the blade passes effortlessly through his virtual body. Satisfied that this visage cannot harm her, she extinguishes her blade and replaces it on her belt. "Who are you?" The man shakes his pale head, veins running down his face like water down a rock. The Sith takes a quick step forward menacingly, and Faetōsa retreats. "I am Darth Malgus, and I stood on this vary spot thousands of years ago and watched your Temple burn. I slew many of your Order, girl, brought low its despicable warriors, humbled its most skilled masters, and nearly vanquished its wretched light." Faetōsa stops her retreat. "Good for you," she says bitterly. "How do I get out of here?" The image of Darth Malgus stares at her so intently that Faetōsa nearly looks away. "Satisfactorily answer my koan, and I will let you pass."

5

Malgus draws himself to his full height. "What does the need-less Jedi want?" he says lowly. What kind of a question is this? Faetōsa offers the first thing that comes to her mind: "Uh, to be a servant of the Republic?" she offers. The Sith shakes his head. "Pathetic, girl. Is this the best the Jedi Order can muster?" Faetōsa scowls. It had seemed like a plausible answer. It is what a Jedi would say, isn't it? Then, the words of her father rush to her: "You're the most introspective and intelligent young woman I have ever met." Faetōsa clenches her fists and approaches the holographic figure. "Fine. Let me try again." She clears her throat. "Well, on the ancient world of Tython, the Jedi began as followers of Ashla, the Light Side," she recites from Eschrik's droning lessons. "They were champions of justice, peace, and mercy. So it's fair to say the Jedi strive for these things," she deduces. "On the other hand, the followers of Bogan, the Dark Side, became Dark Jedi. The adepts of Bogan were led by their passions, and this led to their selfishness, recklessness, and ruthlessness. The two sides warred, and the Dark Jedi fled to Korriban – there, they integrated with the Sith. The Dark Jedi have taken up the mantle as Lords of the Sith ever since." She eyes Malgus and continues her reasoning. "The Jedi Order, eventually founded here at the Temple on Coruscant, is based upon the Jedi Code. This Code codifies the Light Side with precepts in direct opposition to the Dark Side, such as: 'There is no emotion, there is peace,' 'There is no passion, there is serenity,' and 'There is no chaos, there is harmony.'" How she had tired of hearing these repeated mantras from the mouths of chiding Jedi! "So I guess my answer is," Faetōsa ventures, "that the need-less Jedi wants to be a keeper of the peace."

6

The Sith is still. Nothing happens. Faetōsa raises her arms. "Anything?" Darth Malgus adjusts his cloak. "Your answer, while well-reasoned, is too rote. The Jedi carry deadly weapons, lead armies and fleets, fight the Republic's wars. It is blatantly false." Faetōsa's brow narrows, but she says nothing. Malgus was right, after all. "Padawan, are you familiar with the Sith Code?" Malgus inquires, his voice betraying a sudden interest. "No, I am not," says Faetōsa, a little surprised. "No one ever told me." "Typical Jedi righteousness," Malgus retorts. "The Sith Code tells us that for living beings, peace is a lie. There is only passion. Through passion, you gain strength, power, and victory." Faetōsa considers this. "Is not the universe large enough for both peace and passion?" she wonders aloud. "Are the Jedi so capacious?" Malgus says bitterly. "Do they allow themselves to feel both?" Malgus replies. "No. 'There is no passion,' remember?" she parrots the Code. "No passion indeed, Padawan, for the Jedi see peace and passion as opposed, antithetical, even." Malgus says proudly at what he clearly regards as self-evident. "The Sith, however, do not." Yet Faetōsa cannot accept this. "But both the Jedi and the Sith then make a claim as absolutist as the other. One asserts that there is either is only peace, while the other claims there is only passion!" She throws up her hands. "I don't understand." Malgus repeats his initial question:" What does the need-less Jedi want?" he goads. Faetōsa blurts: "To be without passion! They want to be above emotion. They want to be detached. They want to be serene. The need-less Jedi wants to be...well, I don't know, not a Sith!" In an instant, the visage of the Sith Lord Darth Malgus flickers and disappears. Faetōsa stares, mouth agape. She looks around her, but the Sith Lord is gone. Where was once hovering, a hole has now appeared in the trees. Warily, she steps through the parted trees.

7

Faetōsa wanders down this new corridor, only to inevitably encounter another dead end. "Sith Lords, let me pass!" Faetōsa announces to the empty corner. Suddenly, a new hologram emerges from the trees, depicting a tall but thin man clad in an ashen cloak. He has silver jewels lining his face, accentuating a strong Umbaran jaw line. "Good evening, Padawan. My title is Darth Ruin. I used to be a Jedi, like yourself. I suggest you turn back from this path of foolishness and dogma." Faetōsa shrugs. "I can't go anywhere until I answer your koan." Ruin turns his gaunt face to the Padawan. "What does the grasp-less Jedi hold as good?" Faetōsa considers this for some time. "I would think that the Jedi believe that that which they fight for – justice, peace, and honor – are virtuous," she surmises. The Sith purses his lips. "Elementary, of course. But what then do the Jedi regard as evil?" It is Faetōsa's turn to be express incredulity. "Obviously, the teachings of the Sith!" Ruin's eye's emit a devilish twinkle."But why, Padawan, are Sith teachings obviously so evil?" This question takes Faetōsa aback. She considers the precepts of the Sith Code as told by Malgus. "The Sith Code is hyper-individualistic. Its selfish, greedy, and thus it is destructive to the greater community." "Contestable," the Sith mutters darkly. "Have the Jedi polluted your mind to the extent that you really, truly believe that those who strike out for themselves are evil? I went out in search of knowledge prohibited by the Jedi Order, and I was branded a Dark Sider for my trouble. Do you truly regard those who will their own ends into being as incorruptibly selfish?" Faetōsa shakes her head. "I mean, _I_ don't! But the Jedi do. Besides, while I agree that the Jedi Order could embrace the choices of it individual members more often, the Sith are surely no better! You Sith only offer one extreme in exchange for another."

8

Ruin is no longer smiling. "Perhaps, Padawan, but as you are so eager to remind me, I am dead – you are the one living, standing in a conjured maze outside an ancient temple attempting to gain membership in a cult that denies its members the ability to express their individuality. Why do you think that is?" An likeness of Ty painfully flashes in Faetōsa's mind, and she banishes it with a grimace. "Because if I had things my way, I wouldn't be here right now," she murmurs lowly. The Sith cackles. "How deliciously ironic. And perfectly illustrative. The Jedi quash individuality because it runs contrary to their theology." Faetōsa's face burns with indignation. "Yes, well, I know that now." "But why?" Ruin asks haughtily. "Why does their Code take such a stance?" the Sith implores. "Because the Sith were a bunch of selfish megalomaniacs, and the Jedi were having none of that," spits Faetōsa reflexively. But then, something dawns on her. Faetōsa's hand covers her mouth in pause. "But that would mean that the Jedi's conception of good doesn't actually come from a reflective consideration of what it means to be a good person, let alone a healthy one - they are all just the opposites of what the Jedi think are bad. 'Do not covet possessions, train yourself to rely on only yourself, do not give in to emotions;' these edicts are not meant to help make an individual flourish. No, they're meant to one thing and one thing only: to make acolytes of the Jedi Code!" Faetōsa's words quicken by revelation, and she begins to pace. "How did I not see this sooner? When the Jedi Code minimizes our individuality, it isn't to make us better or more virtuous people; it's just a stick in the eye to the Sith and their rampant selfishness!" Darth Ruin grins widely.

9

But Faetōsa shakes her head and waves her hands in front of her. "No, no, no, wait, that doesn't make sense. How can the Jedi be reactionary? Their Code and its theology came before the Sith's – if anything, the Sith teachings are themselves a reaction to the Jedi." Ruin nods his head. "Well reasoned. However, consider this: the Sith Code may succeeded the Jedi's, but search your feelings, Padawan. Do the dictates of the Jedi Code - 'There is no emotion' - sooner describe a natural person, or a droid?" Faetōsa is lost in thought. "Padawan, the answer is right in front of you," Ruin strains impatiently. "The Jedi Code is a straightjacket to modify your natural behavior. It was convinced from the beginning to demand the submergence of one's natural self in favor of a superstructure of learned behavior," the Jedi-turned-Sith says with disdain. "You may not find appeal in the Sith path, Padawan, but you must admit the blatant truth: the Sith Code acknowledges and celebrates a sentient being's will to power, while your Jedi and their religiosity seek to stifle and shame you for embracing the embodied person you find yourself thrown into this world as: an emotionally turbulent, passionate, and finite being. They shame you for it! Thus, the question you must answer is – why? What has led the Jedi to decide that the preservation of the self, the consummation of emotion, and the meaning derived from relationships with others should be, of all things, shameful?" Faetōsa is now deep in thought. The Sith stares at her, his orange eyes burning into her forehead. Then, almost offhandedly, she speaks: "Revenge. Jedi virtues, while they may have a veneer of objective benevolence for their adherents, actually spring from revenge. Revenge against the Sith." The Sith Lord towers triumphantly over her as she continues her deduction: "What the Sith called noble of soul, high-natured, and privileged, the Jedi call common, vulgar, and base. As long as the Sith laud a given value, then the Jedi label it as evil. They endorse action and conduct that is opposite to the Sith – so, what does the grasp-less Jedi hold as good? That which is not evil." Darth Ruin disappears with a sinister laugh, and a portal opens in the labyrinth wall. Faetōsa shakes her head in doubt. Was all of this really a part of Master Jerneja's trial?

10

Faetōsa steps into a new hedgerow, and like the others, it too terminates in a dead end. "What is your koan, Sith?" A man, dressed simply in a ragged black cloak, appears. He sports no armor, no intimidating apparel, no sinister veil. His broad face sports only shadows and scars. "Who are you?" Faetōsa asks. "You should show some humility, Pantoran. You stand before the Sith'ari, Darth Bane." Faetōsa's complexion relaxes. "I know you; you're the one who imposed the Rule of Two on the Sith. You were the last person to hold the title of Darth, right?" Bane frowns. "Do not be so sure." Faetōsa's interest is piqued, but she has no time for questions. "What is your riddle, Sith'ari?" Bane's expression is flat. "How does the meek Jedi become more powerful? Faetōsa ruminates for a moment. "Well, I think the Jedi would reject that premise out of hand. They would eschew the pursuit of power altogether." Before Bane can respond, Faetōsa's voice changes gears. "However, the Jedi do in fact believe that the will to resist the Dark Side requires strength." "Elaborate, Padawan," intones Bane. "Fine. The Jedi believe that falling to the Dark Side is weakness. Val Aath lectured me about being weak; she told me that I was succumbing to the Dark Side when I felt fear. But fear is natural – or so I thought until I came to this Temple and met Master Jerneja. She too made me think I was weak for feeling fear. That's a Jedi thing, apparently." "How perceptive of you," the Sith Lord says, apparently bored. Faetōsa strokes her chin. "The Sith of course don't supposedly feel fear. So maybe that is why the Jedi are in a hurry to condemn it as an expression of the Dark Side. They tell people that embracing fear leads to hatred, and that hatred leads the Dark Side. But this is nothing more than pretending fear doesn't exist. Well, it does and lots of other emotions do too." Bane raises a brow. "Go on." Faetōsa's pulse accelerates and her voice takes on new urgency. "It's almost as if the Jedi Code considers strength to be the extent to which we deny our true nature as feeling beings. Of course, the Jedi wouldn't frame it this way – they would tell me that the Code is about becoming something I am not, surpassing my weakness, becoming better than what I am..." Her voice trails off.

11

Darth Bane suddenly becomes animated. "I wonder, Pantoran: do you know of the Vornskr?" Faetōsa is silent. "I thought as much. The Jedi and their secrets," the Sith sneers. "Vornskrs are large quadrupeds, indigenous predators of an unspeakable world where Jedi dare not go. This wide berth is granted to the Vornskrs because these creatures use the Force when hunting to guide them to Force-sensitive prey. Due to the fact that they are stronger with the Force than most organisms, any one of your Order unfortunate enough to encounter such a predator would appear to the hungry Vornskr as an easy meal – a feast, even." Faetōsa raises an eyebrow. "Okay, but what is your point?" Bane's face darkens. "Use your own reasoning, Pantoran. If the Jedi believe that strength is denying one's own nature, as you have suggested, how do you think the Jedi Code would condition a Jedi who winds up under the fangs of a hungry Vornsk to regard her assailant?" Faetōsa is lost. "How would you regard it, Sith? Probably the same as me: as nothing more than a hungry, vile beast." Bane raises a fist. "Indeed! A mere animal, the embodiment of rapacious hunger, nothing more! Your ire towards such an animal that would make you its prey would be logical. But think dispassionately, as if you were not its meal. There would then be no reason to hold the Vornskr's appetite for Force-users against it, would there?" "I am not sure I follow you," Faetōsa says hesitantly, albeit intrigued. "Does a tauntaun begrudge the wampa for stalking it? Does the bantha hate the Tuskan Raider who rides it? Does the mynock resent the slug that entombs it in its belly? No. Would you shame the Vornskr for its tendency to kill?" Bane says clinically. "No, because for the Vornskr to survive, it needs to eat, like any other animal. I wouldn't begrudge it for being a predator; it's just its nature." Faetōsa concludes. "And why not condemn its nature?" Bane inquires. "Because eating is an instinct," Faetōsa gestures. "It's not like the Vornskr _chose_ to be a predator. Of course, I guess I would feel a little differently if I were to become its prey." Darth Bane holds a finger to his lips. "Ah, yes, an instinct. You would not feel ill of something or someone for having an instinct; it was born that way, of course. So in the case of the Vornskr, its instinct, its nature if you will, is to eat Force-users; but what if we consider a sentient being, such as yourself? What is it in your nature to do? What are _your_ instincts, Rei?"

12

Faetōsa is surprised. "How do you know my name?" Darth Bane ignores her. "Answer me." Faetōsa thinks it over. What were her instincts? "My biological instincts are pretty simple, I suppose. I eat, sleep, and require shelter. I came from a family, so I am loyal to them." None of these postulates seem satisfactory. Now Faetōsa begins to really consider the question. "I find that I am naturally inclined to emotions like fear, love, frustration. I find myself in turmoil, not peace. I desire things...and people. I admit that I am ignorant." She looks Bane directly in the eye. "And I fear death." The Sith is silent. In the echo of her admission, Faetōsa leans against the wall dejectedly. "And all of these things are against the Jedi Code." The Sith Lord gestures towards the Temple, barely visible above the hedge. "The Jedi would have you feel that these instincts are deficiencies. Therefore, these behaviors ought to be avoided at all costs." The Sith Lord stops abruptly. Faetōsa leans forward. "Do the rest yourself," Bane says dismissively. Faetōsa gives the Sith visage a long stare. "Like I told Ruin, the Jedi regard strength as the ability to overcome your natural desires, your instincts..." says Faetōsa slowly, the words coming into her mind one at a time, "so that means the Jedi must believe these natural instincts to be weaknesses. And then, the Jedi in turn regard these weaknesses as Dark Side traits. And, like I answered Malgus, since the Jedi resent the Sith, they embrace the opposite precepts – abstinence, denial, humility – which is just choosing the opposite of how the Sith view strength rather than virtuous that are wholesome of their own account." Darth Bane stares on malevolently. "The Jedi resent the Sith because of our proclivity to embrace our natural instincts, our will to greater ability, power, and strength," he proclaims. "Which is like blaming the Vornskr for its appetite," whispers Faetōsa in dread realization.

13

"Except when the Sith carry things beyond instinct and into madness," she adds quickly. Darth Bane laughs a haughty laugh. "Indeed, Pantoran. Now, answer my question." Faetōsa is numb. "While the Jedi proclaim, 'We are against this because the Sith are for it,' what they are really saying is, 'Our weakness is our merit.' If that's true, then the answer you are looking for is that the meek Jedi becomes more powerful...by becoming meeker," she says. In a flash of light, the Sith Lord Darth Bane vanishes, but his voice lingers ominously to deliver one last admonishment. "Behold, Pantoran – you have uncovered the true creed of your Order: the inversion of life." The trees began to disintegrate, and Faetōsa stumbles out of maze and into the broad sunlight of Coruscant. Emerging on the Temple steps, she looks behind her: the trees have vanished into ether. Approaching from afar, Master Jerneja bows. "Well met, Padawan Rei. I must admit I did not expect to see you so soon." Faetōsa scratches her head. "Master, what exactly did you program the Sith to say?" The Jedi smiles knowingly. "I did not script their speech at all, Padawan; rather, I simply wrote an algorithm to generate their speech based on what we Jedi know about what each were like when they were alive. As for what they said and why they allowed you to pass," Master Jerneja smile diminishes, "you alone know." Faetōsa has more questions, but Jerneja turns and retires to the Temple. Faetōsa shivers.

14

Eschrik nods approvingly at his apprentice. "You have bested the Trial of Insight. I am most impressed, Padawan." Master Drallig steps forward. "Padawan Rei, I am Head of the Temple Watch and a Jedi Sentinel. Today I will oversee your second trial, the Trial of the Flesh. This trial will test your ability to withstand pain and prompt you to divorce yourself from your spirit." How ironic, Faetōsa thinks. Drallig continues: "You see, the ability to disassociate your mind from your body makes a Jedi who she is. The Sith, on the other hand, lack the discipline to achieve this distance between their body and spirit. They allow their feelings to taint their spirit for easy gains." The laughter of Darth Ruin echoes in Faetōsa's ears. "While allowing your body's feelings to galvanize you to action may provide strength in the moment, it leads to the Dark Side over time," continues Drallig "This ability to sever you mind from your body's pain is what separates the Jedi from the Sith, you see. Never forget, 'There is no passion, there is serenity.'" Now it is Drallig's turn to laugh. "Of course, you might be anxious, Padawan Rei, that the Trial of the Flesh will be ever more sophisticated than the last. But do not fear: it is, in some ways, much like its proctor," says Drallig, reaching out a hand towards a nearby statue of a Jedi warrior in dignified repose. "That is to say: quite simple." The statue's marble lightsaber quivers for a moment, rises away from the Jedi's carved hands, and begins to drift towards Faetōsa. Drallig withdraws his hand quickly, and the massive stone effigy hurtles towards the steps. "Do not allow this stone lightsaber to touch the ground, Padawan!" Without thinking, Faetōsa dives forward, casting out her own threads of the Force to cradle the heavy stone lightsaber like a net woven from a hundred ropes just inches above the ground. "Good!" says Drallig, clapping his hands together. "Now run!"

15

Nearly an hour later, sweat drenches Faetōsa's forehead. Her lungs burn. Her arms ache. She blinks under her blindfold, trying to keep the stinging sweat out of her eyes, unseeing though they may be. The stone saber is held aloft, directly over her head. This is madness, Faetōsa thinks, gritting her teeth. As she takes one halting step after another, the stone undulates in the air. How long had she been at this? Round and round the Temple she has gone, slowing to her present crawl after the fifth lap. Turning a deserted corner of the Temple, Faetōsa scans the grounds. Would anyone notice if she set the stone down? Surely not. Faetōsa sighs, shifting her weight. No, she would not cheat – she would not allow a Jedi test to best her. Yet how much longer did Drallig expect her to go on like this? He had said nothing since she had first departed. Under the enormous weight of the stone lightsaber, the Padawan cannot help but churn out a wry laugh at the absurdity of the scene. This lightsaber, the symbol of the Jedi Order that protects all its members, threatens to crush her in a moment's lapse of focus. Turning another corner of the Temple, she spots Drallig and the rest waiting for her. She winces; they are still very small in the distance. She plods on, arms trembling. The weight begins to take its toll on her body. But Drallig has instructed her avoid pain at all costs. And though she tries to put it out of her mind, the tension in her arms burns so badly that Faetōsa chooses the opposite: she will instead embrace the pain. And why not? Pain had helped her find new sight when she was blind, to keep her alive when she was terrified in battle, and to ignite her love for Ty. Pain has never been a stymieing burden to this young woman, but rather a catalyst for her action. And yet. Yet her actions, her sacrifices, had not been enough to earn Ty's love. Faetōsa scowls. What had all her suffering been for, then?

16

Flushed with her frustrations, Faetōsa begins to pick up her speed. The ache of losing Ty's commitment to the Jedi Order stung like no other, but Faetōsa decides that she will use this to spur her to new growth. Have not many of us blossomed by leaps and bounds from the fertilizer that is the pain of rejection in love? With re-forged resolve, Faetōsa condemns the premise of the trial. Drallig is wrong. Pain is not itself some evil to be avoided at all costs. Instead, what ought to be avoided was the endurance of pain in the belief that it had greater meaning, that it would deliver unto her some greater purpose. The Pantoran begins to jog, spurred on by this conclusion. She is tired of being injured, tired of submerging her own well-being for the strictures of the Code, tired of accommodating the attendant pain from the expectations of others. Any hurting would henceforth be endured for her own sake, to advance her own growth, endured in the pursuit of her own goals. With this resolution, she approaches Drallig at full sprint. Damn this trial!, she thinks. As she pulls abreast of her judges, Faetōsa lets loose a primal shout and lifts her arms high above her head, sending the stone lightsaber arcing high in the air. Catapulted by thick cables of the Force, the stone weapon is propelled at almost the length of ten rods before it crashes to the ground. "I'm through carrying this weight for you!" she snarls at Drallig, bending over in exhaustion. Master Drallig steps forward and places his hand on her heaving shoulder. "So you are, Padawan. Excellent work. You have submerged your body's pain and allowed your mind to prevail. You've passed your second Trial." Faetōsa stares at him blankly, still breathing heavily. "I thought you were going to tell me when to stop." Drallig smiles gently. "No, that was your task. And you did just that."

17

Drallig bows low to Faetōsa. Faetōsa is conflicted; should she tell Drallig that it was the pain and frustration of her body's task that had galvanized her little act of rebellion, an act which he had mistakenly interpreted as an act of the mind? No, she decides – the insight will remain hers. Drallig turns and strides back towards the Temple, his test complete. Eschrik beams. "Good work, Padawan. Now, prepare yourself anew." Faetōsa scans the Temple steps. "Eschrik, where is Conzan?" Almost if on cue, the eponymous Jedi Knight appears, but he is not alone. Faetōsa is shocked to see a second figure in a white cloak. "Ah, Padawan Rei, I see you certainly remember Tynaki?" Conzan asks. Faetōsa quickly tries to mask her surprise. The young Pantorans avert awkwardly each other's gaze. What was she doing here?, Faetōsa wonders, her heart still bruised from their meeting on Giju. Conzan waits for either Pantoran to speak, but Faetōsa does not take the bait; she is too busy sorting through the flurry of emotion's Ty's presence has provoked. After a moment, Conzan frowns. "We are wasting daylight. Let's begin the Trial of Skill, shall we then?" Faetōsa leans skeptically. "What must I do, Conzan?" Conzan adjusts his fabric vambrances. "I am a Jedi Guardian, responsible for the defense of this Order. My Trial of Skill will test first and foremost your Control abilities, your use of the lightsaber, and your immunity to distraction. It will tempt you to indulge your Dark Side feelings in order to achieve victory. But to become a Jedi Knight, you must not give in to this evil." The ruminations of Darth Bane creep into Faetōsa's head. The Jedi Knight discards his cloak, passing the heavy brown fabric to Ty, and activates his lightsaber. "To pass this Trial, you must defeat me in a duel, Padawan Rei."

18

Blue and violet blades cross with shrieks and hums. The duel is a flurry of twists and turns, tentative probes and quick evasions. Conzan lunges forward with his blade, and Faetōsa parries it away. She is on her guard, deflecting each of Conzan's strikes with relative ease, but the Guardian is aggressive, making her react at his every move. He leaves her little room for her own offensive attempts. Whirling around in fluid movement, Faetōsa tries to arc her blade in an overhand motion down upon on her adversary, but Conzan moves too quickly; he has already launched a slashing attack which compels the Pantoran to abandon her attack in order to block his blade. Back and forth the fight goes, with lunges, parries, and strikes producing only an even match. The Guardian is trying to wear me down, Faetōsa thinks. Focus. Eschrik and Ty stand as spectators as the two combatants circle around each other like vultures. "Your skills are impressive for a student as youthful as yourself," says Conzan, casually tossing his lightsaber hilt between his left and right hand. "But alas, Padawan, your swordsmanship exhibits no unified Form." With a flick of the wrist, he sends a strike towards Faetōsa, which she knocks away with effort. "My Form IV, on the other hand, will inevitably erode your best defensive efforts." Conzan again whips his blade in a quick motion across her body, but the Pantoran is ready and she parries again. Faetōsa smirks suddenly. "What is so humorous, Rei?" Conzan asks. "You are right about one thing. My swordsmanship is non-existent..." Conzan's eyes narrows, and Faetōsa finally lunges forward, aiming low. "Because I am no man!" Conzan awkwardly brushes away the surprise attack on his legs, appearing decidedly ungainly in the process. It is Conzan's turn to smile. "Indeed, Padawan Rei, you are no man. Let's discuss that, shall we?"

19

Conzan points his ignited lightsaber towards Ty. "I know that you and Tynaki have a special relationship." Ty flinches, startled by the mention of her name. Faetōsa's skin begins to crawl. "Leave her out of this," she mutters, lowering her blade in order to gauge Ty's expression. At this lapse, Conzan lashes out with his blade with unexpected quickness; Faetōsa is unprepared for this strike, and the Guardian's blade slices apart her right sleeve and badly singes her skin. Faetōsa cries out in pain, grasping her arm. Conzan smiles. "You see, Master Drallig informed me that the very first thing you did when you arrived at the Temple was to accuse me of being mistaken about Tynaki's connection with the Force. Well, you were right, Rei!" He swings again, but Faetōsa is ready, and dodges the attack, still nursing her arms. "But that means you must have known from the beginning that Tynaki was Force-inert. You made me look like a fool, wasting my time with a Padawan that had no talent whatsoever!" Conzan lunges, but Faetōsa is still able to deflect his blows. "No, you're wrong," she retorts. "Ty is a talented healer, and a real Jedi." Ty's mouth is agape. "You knew all this time I couldn't use the Force?" Faetōsa turns to speak, but Conzan strikes again, compelling her to make a desperate parry. "So, how did you do it, Rei?" he demands. "What did you do to her that made her appear Force-sensitive?" Faetōsa stops circling, and looks directly at Ty. "I loved her."

20

Conzan grimaces, as if he has consumed a sour food. The Jedi Knight shakes his head. "My. my, I am aghast! Many a Jedi have been tempted into the Dark Side by a fair maiden or a dashing man; but two women? Such a coupling is contrary to the will of the Force, an affront to the natural order, an abomination. She should not become a Jedi, Mdlaren." There is a moment of profound silence. Was this bigotry an aspect of the Trial? Suddenly, Eschrik begins to take a step forward. "Do not allow your feelings to undermine your focus," says Conzan, eyes narrowing in a hateful squint. Whether Conzan is addressing Eschrik or her, Faetōsa cannot tell. But never mind – before Eschrik can intervene further, Faetōsa takes a running leap, tumbles toward her adversary, and twists into the air, raising her lightsaber high above her head for a reckless over handed strike. Conzan is caught unready, but moves without difficulty to block the arcing strike that is sure to come. However, Faetōsa does not oblige the Guardian's ready defense. Instead, she reaches back her arm and elects to throw her violet blade directly at her target. It shoots downward like a lightning bolt, hastened on by the Force, rending the air with its violent energy. The Guardian is forced to make a hasty two-handed deflection, batting the entire weapon away. Though the violet blade retracts into its hilt and goes scattering away on the marble ground, the attack leaves Conzan vulnerable. Faetōsa sets upon in him in an instant. Weaving a thread of light around his blade's hilt, she snaps his wrist, sending his lightsaber flying, which is accompanied by a sharp cry of pain. Pulling one arm forward, Faetōsa weaves tendrils of light around Conzan and draws him off his feet; then, with the other hand, she pulls the floating Jedi forward in the air. Coiling back her leg, she summons a well of Force energy and channels it through her body like a jet. Her ensuing Force-kick blasts Conzan into the air, sending his body careening across the ground.

21

Wiping a trickle of blood away from his bruised face, Conzan raises himself on an elbow. "Well, well, Padawan. You do have some fight in you after all." He stands, cradling his wrist, and the disdain which has marked his words is suddenly vanished from his voice. "You were tempted to give in to your feelings of anger and hatred, but you successfully resisted; there is no other explanation for the precision of your final strike, an audacious attack that required mental discipline over emotional chaos. I am impressed, Rei. A weaker warrior would have embraced their anger to use the Dark Side to defeat me." Don't be so sure, Faetōsa thinks, recalling the fate of Val Aath. But Conzan's superlatives continue. "In combat, you have embodied the Code: 'There is no chaos, there is harmony.' I will concede, Mdlaren. You may have a capable Padawan after all." Eschrik nods, but says nothing. "Consider her trial passed," Conzan says finally. Faetōsa looks away. Ty steps forward dutifully and returns Conzan his cloak; Faetōsa does her best to ignore them both, summoning her discarded saber and affixing it to her belt. Conzan turns and ushers Ty away in silence. Master and apprentice watch the two figures shrink and disappear within the Temple. "Rei, are you –?" Eschrik begins in a soft voice, but Faetōsa replies: "Please don't. Let's just be done with this." Eschrik clears his throat and his solemn tone returns. "Padawan, the Trial of Spirit is a natural successor to the Trial of Skill; in this trial, you must triumph in your inner battles." Is not every day in the Jedi Order such a trail?, Faetōsa thinks acerbically. "Sit and mediate with me," Eschrik beckons. The two alight on the steps of the Temple, alone together save for the gentle hum of traffic overhead. "Reach out with your mind." Faetōsa does as instructed, but she is not in the mood of mediation. Her arm burns, and she is exhausted. She wants only to retreat from these Jedi obligations, to be alone with her thoughts, to sleep. Minutes pass. Nothing seems to happen. Scowling, she is about to stand and confront her master for wasting her time when she hears an unexpected voice call her name. "Fae?"

22

Standing on the Temple steps below is her father, an expression of bemused confusion on his face. He races up the steps, but his daughter is already leaping down the steps three at a time, running into his arms. "Father!" The reunited family embraces, the father laughing slowly and heartily like someone savoring a heartwarming story, while the daughter is wracked with tears. They say nothing for a long moment. Faetōsa pulls away, her arms still around her father. "Father, you can't really be here, can you?" she says flatly. Her father beams childishly. "No, I don't think so. I was enjoying a long uninterrupted sleep, it seems, and then found myself awake suddenly in this place,'' he says, surveying his surroundings. "As if I was being called here." Faetōsa drops her arms. Her father frowns. "What's wrong?" "We must be in a vision," says Faetōsa, "some sort of dreamlike consciousness conjured by Eschrik." She looks towards the top of the steps; there is no Herglic in sight. Her father regains his smile. "Perhaps this is your master's vision, but I am quite confident we are in _your_ head" he says warmly, pointing to her chest. "Or perhaps your heart." Faetōsa has a thousand questions for her father, but finds herself overcome at his mere presence. Her father cradles her cheek, and laughs again. "Fae, what is it now?" Her lip trembling, she struggles to make the words come out. "After the explosion…Are you in…I mean, did you find…" She is interrupted by an involuntary sob, but continues thereafter: "Did you find some measure of peace?" Her father draws her close again. "Of course I did. I found my way to you, didn't I?"

23

"I miss you so much," Faetōsa whispers. "I have so much to tell you. After you left and I lost my vision, I almost gave up. But then a woman, Tynaki, she saved me, Dad. We fell in love, but she was taken by the Jedi Order. So I came here, to follow her. I became a Jedi for her. But now, she doesn't want me anymore, and so I'm trapped in the Order. I've lost everything and gained nothing." Her arms fall to her side. Her father grips her shoulders, frowning slightly. "My sweet girl. Fae, listen. You're right. The Jedi have taken everything from you and given you nothing in return. You're a hundred times smarter than any of them, remember? You're the most introspective and intelligent young woman I have ever met." Faetōsa smiles meekly, tears streaming down her blindfolded face. "Now, it is time. You must go. You must abandon the Order." Faetōsa embraces her father again. "You think I should just run?" Her father grasps her arms. "No, Fae. I think you should turn to the Dark Side." Bewildered, Faetōsa looks up. "What did you say?" Her father continues, a sinister look sweeping over his features. "I know your mind, Faetōsa. I know what you've heard today has made you question the Jedi. Your path is clear: you must become one of the Sith." Faetōsa takes a step in retreat. "Father, what do you know about the Sith?" Her father follows her with outstretched arms. "I know that the Sith would value the parts of your personality that the Jedi regard as vices," he says darkly. "Father, the Sith are megalomaniacal killers who answer to no one. They're no better than the Jedi," Faetōsa responds caustically. A black pall clouds her father's complexion, one that she does not recognize, and her retreat quickens. "You're wrong, my daughter. Among the Sith, you would be powerful." At this, her father reaches out and grips her arm tightly. Too tightly. "Stop it." Faetōsa recoils. Her father moves towards her, full of malice now. "You must join the Dark Side, girl." He tears at her tunic, pushing her to the steps, looming over her. "Stop!" pleads Faetōsa, wrestling to escape his clutches. "Leave me alone! Leave me alone! Leave me –!"

24

Faetōsa blinks violently; her father's figure is gone, replaced by Eschrik. "Padawan, you did not give in to the Dark Side," he says with a wide smile. "You have passed the Trial of Spirit." He reaches out a hand to pull her to her feet. Faetōsa slaps it away and stands herself. "My dead father, Eschrik? Is nothing sacred to the Jedi?" she says furiously. He stares, confused. "There is plenty that is sacred to the Order, Padawan." Racing up the steps towards the Temple, Faetōsa turns back. "Why? Why did you have to drag my memory of him into this? Why did you have manipulate the one thing I have left of him?" she demands, furious. Eschrik has no reply, so she continues: "You know, just because you hate your family and don't cherish your memories of them doesn't mean you have the right to take mine from me." Eschrik stands and says lamely, "I had to truly test you." Faetōsa laughs a sardonic laugh, matching the malice of Darth Malgus. "No! No, you're taking your revenge on my feelings of joy and love for my father because your memories of your own are consumed by feelings of sadness and of pain, compliments of the Jedi Order. Revenge is all the Jedi know, isn't it?" Eschrik waves his arms. "Be silent! Padawan Rei, you have one trial remaining, the Trial of Courage. We will complete this Trial tomorrow, and then, if you pass through this tribulation, you _will_ become a Jedi Knight. And when you do, you can no longer indulge in such heretical talk! You will have to let go of such memories. They will only weigh you down. You must learn to let go of your concern for others," he says grimly. "Then I would rather not live at all," Faetōsa mutters, throwing out her hands in exasperation. Eschrik stands erect and bellows harshly: "Then you very well may not!" Both master and apprentice peer directly at the other in mutual animosity, each failing to notice the other's hand on the hilt of their lightsabers. It was Eschrik who ended the standoff. "We will meet in the Tranquility Spire tomorrow for your final trial. You will be there, _Padawan._ And you will learn to be more grateful." Eschrik brushes past Faetōsa, who lingers on the Temple steps, frozen. She contemplates running down the long avenue and into the city, to plunge into the churning anonymity of Coruscant, never to return to the Jedi. Instead, she turns towards the Temple in haste.

25

She had stood outside the Council Chamber atop the High Council Tower for a long while, questioning her motives. Before she could reconsider her impulsive sojourn here, Faetōsa enters. The room was dark and deserted. She has never entered this hallowed place before. Standing at the center of the ring of chairs in quiet reflection, Faetōsa wonders what it will be like to spend all her days remaining days alive as a Jedi. Her future will be devoid of lovers, of children, of a new family. As a Jedi, she would have no home, no friends, no freedom. Sighing, she shakes her head. "What am I doing here?" she says, her voice filling the empty room. "The same reason an old Jedi Master is, I suspect: to think." Faetōsa whirls around to see a short figure standing in the doorway. "Forgive my intrusion, Master...?" Faetōsa asks. "Worry not, Padawan Rei. I am Master Yoda; though we have not met, know who you are, I do." Yoda comes to stand by Faetōsa, following her gaze onto the city below. For a time, they are both quiet, the Padawan's thoughts in tumult after her altercation with Eschrik. Then, Faetōsa speaks unprompted: "Master, do you know why the Council allowed me to become a Jedi?" Yoda grins gently. "Such a question, difficult it is to answer. Believed you to be able to see things many Jedi could not, I did. Mdlaren did as well." Faetōsa gestures in frustration. "But Master, how do you know I'll be a good Jedi? I...I don't know if I am." "Know, we do not," Yoda replies. "Instead, place our faith in you, we must." Faetōsa considers this. "Faith may not be good enough, Master," she says listlessly. Yoda's brows climb his face. "We trust the Code, not our emotions, to make good Jedi. Remember, 'There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.' Allow doubt to cloud your mind, you cannot." With a hushed hiss, the door opens, and a man Faetōsa recognizes as Master Kit Fisto appears, disrupting the reverie. "Master Yoda, I know that you were preparing to depart for Kashyyyk, but we may have a problem with the Chancellor. And Anakin Skywalker." Yoda turns, pivoting on his cane. "Take my leave of you, I must. Stay as long as you want, Padawan Rei." She knows that Yoda refers to the Council Chamber itself, but Faetōsa cannot help but think he knows what is really in her heart.


	12. Chapter Ten: Martyrdom

Martyrdom

The status of a person who is put to death or sacrifices their life in order to suffer greatly in service of a morality.

 _"_ _We are essentially the Republic's army, and must be ready to give up our lives in the service of this cause."_ -Jedi Master Crix Sunburris, _The Jedi Path_

 _"_ _If you end your training now, if you choose the quick and easy path, as Vader did, you will become an agent of evil._

 _"_ _And sacrifice Han and Leia?"_

 _"_ _If you honor what they fight for... yes!"-_ Jedi Master Yoda to Luke Skywalker, _The Empire Strikes Back_

 _"_ _Better you should lose your Padawan to tragedy than to avoid danger altogether. Every member of the Jedi Order is prepared to die in the service of the Republic- any lesser commitment is selfishness and waste."_ –Jedi Master Fae Coven, _The Jedi Path_

 _"_ _We have so lost our way as to become villains in this conflict. We are the ones that should be put on trial. All of us."_ –Jedi Padawan Bariss Offee, _The Clone Wars: "The Wrong Jedi"_

1

A sun begins to creep above the horizon of Coruscant, casting long shafts of orange light on the cityscape below. The sunlight winds its way through numerous streets, crawls up the face of countless buildings, rises above columns of levitating speeders and cruisers, illuminating all. This is the scene of an otherwise pleasant morning in the capital of the Republic, but rapidly closing from beyond are towering thunderheads that will soon veil the sun's rays. However, far from the tangled traffic or busy streets and the worldly concerns of the vast city is the site of the Jedi Temple, where few bother to comment on such trivialities as the weather. Indifferent to the sun or the clouds, it is around daybreak that the ancient Temple chambers begin to stir with life. As robed Jedi emerge to wander the dawn-lit halls, some hooded figures repair to the archives, others to the hidden studies, while a handful of others relieve the sentinels of the Temple's night watch. Each rank of the Order is set to its respective tasks of the day befitting its respective station: Jedi Masters proceed to morning's mediation; Knights rise to prepare for the day's instruction; Padawans, Younglings, and Initiates are roused from bed to begin their chores, save for one. High atop the Tranquility Spire, Padawan Faetōsa Rei awaits her master in the mediation chamber. She sits with legs crossed on a padded pedestal, her eyes closed beneath her blindfold. Though her body is still, her mind races. On the eve of her final Jedi Trial, sleep had been decidedly intermittent. What would happen if she actually passed? Faetōsa exhales deeply, trying to calm herself. But her nerves are frayed at the prospect of what this day means for the rest of her life. Could you blame her?

2

Without warning, the door opens. Faetōsa leaps to her feet in a start, her pulse quickening. Was it time already? "Master Eschrik, I –" But there is no Herglic standing at the threshold. Faetōsa stops. "Ty?" The Pantoran healer hesitantly steps into the chamber. "Good morning, Faetōsa. I heard your final Trial is being held today. I came here to wish you good luck." Faetōsa looks Ty up and down. She gestures for her to sit on a nearby pedestal. Ty sits gingerly, scanning the mediation chamber. "I've never been here before, actually. This room is generally reserved for Force-users." She smiles faintly. Faetōsa's face is blank. "Ty, why did you really come here?" Ty sighs slightly. "Look, Fae, I –" "Just call me Faetōsa," she says. Ty nods politely. "Faetōsa, I came here because…well, I didn't like the way things ended between us." Faetōsa is still. "Thank you, Ty, but there is no need for that. There is no longer anything between us." For the first time, Ty looks eager. "I am glad you finally understand and accept that, Faetōsa. Yesterday, you saw for yourself why we cannot cling to our feelings for each other. You saw firsthand how Conzan exploited your feelings for me, made you vulnerable, and I for one won't allow you to compromise your future as a Jedi on my behalf." At this, Faetōsa involuntarily laughs."Ty, let me ask you something. Did you ever really love me?" Faetōsa lets the question hang in the air. Ty looks down at her lap, finally mumbling: "I don't know, Faetōsa." Faetōsa scoffs, and Ty stands abruptly and moves to leave. "Tynaki, hold on, please." Her words stop Ty in her tracks.

3

Faetōsa remains seated, but gestures. "Ty, do you see that door?" Ty studies the lone entrance to the Tranquility Spire and then looks back to Faetōsa. "Yes, why?" Faetōsa clasps her hands in front of her matter-of-factly. "We could walk through that door together, you know. And we could keep walking, Ty. We could walk right out of this room, this Spire, out of this Temple, right out of the Order. We could stay on Coruscant, we could go home to Pantora, we could go anywhere in the galaxy together." There is silence. Faetōsa continues: "But if you walk through that door alone, you'll not only be walking out on me, you'll be walking out on a future where you can be in love with anybody, ever. Tell me: are you sure you want to do that?" Ty looks directly at Faetōsa, and nods. "I am a Jedi, now, Faetōsa. I hope you'll forgive me." Faetōsa straightens, betraying nothing of her disappointment. After a long pause, Ty nods and walks towards the door. "Ty," says Faetōsa, standing now. Ty stops a second time. Faetōsa hesitates, and then speaks. "I forgive you." Ty smiles, and turns to leave, but Faetōsa steps forward now. "One more thing," she says, loosening her blindfold. "I took this sash from your things after you left. It's yours." Ty's smile softens, and she closes Faetōsa's fingers over the fabric. "Not anymore." She turns and leaves, and the door of the Tranquility Spire closes.

4

Faetōsa returns the window, surveying the city from on high. From this distance, she can see small specks of movement in the metropolis below. Who was out there, she wondered, on those streets? How many potential friends, lovers, families? What were they doing? Going to work? School? To the marketplace? Faetōsa's gaze moves from the cityscape to the grounds of the Jedi Temple, empty of people and seemingly devoid of life. Why would Ty choose the life of a Jedi?, she wonders. And what did it mean for her own life? What would she do now? Where could she go? What would her father say to her if he were here? Faetōsa shakes her head in uncertainty. Though his memory sends a new pang of sadness through her mind, she imagines what her father would say. "You're the most introspective, empathetic, and curious young woman I have ever met. Just like your mother." She sighs and lights upon a pedestal. She folds her knees in front of her and places her hands gently on her legs to meditate. She spins his words in her mind over and over and over again. Many hours pass. Then, almost at once, Faetōsa Rei suddenly knows what she must do. The dawn's luminosity begins to fade, replaced now by a hood of grey clouds. Then, the door to the Tranquility Spire opens, and Faetōsa stiffens; here is Eschrik, come to make her a Jedi once and for all.

5

"Padawan Rei," Eschrik announces, standing before his apprentice, ready to administer her final trial. Faetōsa turns to face him, a grave expression on her face. But she is surprised when she senses hesitation in her master, who runs his hands tentatively over the scars of his self-inflicted wounds. He pauses like one might when taking off a mask in order to speak. "Good afternoon. I've given much thought to your last trial. But first, I want to say something to you, about yesterday." His expression softens, catching Faetōsa off guard. "I was not aware that you had…feelings for that girl, Tynaki. I just wanted to tell you… what Conzan said to during your Trial, about being two women…that was unfair." Faetōsa's heart begins to beat faster. Had Eschrik not known about Ty until yesterday? Faetōsa's mind races at a feverish peace: that meant that he must not have not seen any of her memories of Ty when he had been inside her mind on Drall. A great fear long lodged within her heart suddenly begins to dissolve, and she almost smiles. Eschrik is visibly uncomfortable, but he is resolved to finish: "The Force teaches us that the universe is a large place, filled with diversity of life. Being two women…it does not matter." At this, his expression goes slack, noticeably relieved. Faetōsa is surprised by his relaxed, almost magnanimous complexion – but then, almost as quickly as it had emerged, it was gone. Eschrik's eyes harden. "But as you are no doubt aware, the Jedi Order and the Code prohibit you as a Padawan from having such any relationships. As your master, I forbid it. It must be terminated immediately." Faetōsa smarts at his now bitter words. "You don't think I know that?" she fires back testily, in no mood for Eschrik's usual dogmatism. But, to her astonishment once again, Eschrik staves off his own stubbornness and remains calm, almost as if he had been practicing for this exchange. "I know things have been rather strained between us since Drall. I had hoped that what happened on Giju would settle the matter, but it is clear my guilt is not assuaged. Therefore, before you attempt this final trial, I want – no, need – to ask you for your...for your…" He tries to speak, but the words will not come.

6

"Did you think that by arranging for me to take the Jedi Trials, I would just forgive you for overthrowing my mind, souring my memory of my father, and getting my friends killed in battle?" Faetōsa's strident words fall on Eschrik like barbs, and she means them to. Eschrik wears a look of astonishment on his face. This was not the response he thought his kind words merited. Finally, a familiar look enters his black eyes, for he has run out of patience. "Yes, Padawan, as a matter of fact, I did," he says just as pointedly back at his apprentice. "Need I remind you that being offered a chance to complete your Trials at this young age is one of the highest honors a Jedi can be offered? Yes, you should be immensely grateful that the Jedi Council has allowed it!" Faetōsa shakes her head. "I am sorry to say that I cannot give you or the Council my forgiveness, Eschrik, for I no longer wish to be a Jedi." There is silence in the Tranquility Spire. Grey clouds begin to turn to black. The sun is gone now, replaced by a dark fog that begins to creep over the Temple. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Eschrik clenches his fists. "What did you just say?" he asks incredulously. "You heard me," says Faetōsa blithely. There was no going back. "I'm not going to complete the final trial." Eschrik raises his fists. "Enough, Padawan. Stop this foolishness at once." He glances at his fists, taut with anger, and lowers them. Regaining his composure, Eschrik speaks with self-imposed calm: "I know this final Trial is a formidable undertaking. I understand. Your mind is in disorder. But as soon as we begin, I'm sure that you will regain your focus." For a split second, the image of a glowering iris blinks in Faetōsa's mind, but it is dispatched in an instant by the visage of her father, smiling. Steeled by his company, Faetōsa plants her feet. "No Eschrik," she says with resolution. "I will not complete the final trial, for I am leaving the Jedi Order." Eschrik's eye's bulge. "Why would you want do such a thing?" is all he can muster. Faetōsa meets her master's gaze. "Let me tell you why."

7

The suffocating clouds have disappeared from the Tranquility Spire, replaced by an uncanny stillness. The afternoon sun begins to set, veiled by a haze from afar. Shadows begin to emerge behind the skyline. Faetōsa gets to her feet and wanders towards the far end of the mediation chamber, putting some distance between herself and Eschrik before she turns to face the Herglic for the culmination of the argument. "I need you to listen to me, Eschrik. I became a Jedi for the wrong reasons. I came to the Temple not be trained as a Jedi, but to be with someone I thought I loved. At first, I thought my decision was the height of selfishness – after all, I didn't want to be alone. But ultimately, I've come to realize that I wasn't acting selfishly at all. Instead, I came here for Ty, not for me. Now, I regret it." The Herglic Jedi clenches his lightsabers as if enduring an amputation. "Are you suggesting that your becoming a Jedi was a mistake?" Faetōsa nods. "Yes, I am. A big one. But don't misunderstand me: I don't want to live a selfish life, a self-centered and self-serving life. I find no appeal in the Sith's rampant egotism. But I can't commit to a life as a Jedi on behalf of someone else. I can't live entirely for myself, but I can't live for others, either. I need to make my own choices from now on, and the Jedi and their Code only take these away from me." Eschrik launches into a determined stride towards the door to the chamber. "You want the unfettered freedom to be your own person, and yet you want to use this sovereignty to shackle yourself to others? What contradictory rubbish." Faetōsa follows, shaking her head sadly. "No, Eschrik. You are not listening. What I want is the freedom to grow my own life and share it with whom I will. So here is what I am going to do, master. I am going to make the first decision in several years that is entirely my own by choosing to leave this Temple and to never look back." Eschrik rounds scornfully on Faetōsa, a glimmer of what might otherwise be called hatred coming over his face. "Then your Jedi training is all for naught. These last two years, all this time…" He scowls balefully at the Pantoran girl. "You've never been one of us, Rei." Faetōsa returns his stare, a gaze she had for so long feared to meet, and says simply: "Thank you for noticing."

8

Dusk brings interminable darkness to the Jedi Temple. Blackening clouds churn high above the Tranquility Spire, veiling the stars. While the lights of Courscant flicker and gleam in the distance, a new waves of thunderclaps sound far away. Eschrik stands before the door, blocking Faetōsa from leaving the Mediation Chamber. The two stare at one another warily, each waiting for the other to make a move. Another crack of thunder breaks, this time closer. Much closer. While Eschrik's vision is fixed wholly on Faetōsa, the Pantoran's other senses are piqued. She hears sounds now, echoing booms. Were those shouts? A smell of acrid smoldering reaches her nostrils. A memory of the explosion at the fuel depot on Pantora fills her mind, but she is clearly not alone in sensing something out of place: Eschrik steps away from the door to glance outside at the grounds below. Eyeing the exit, Faetōsa considers making good on her escape. Yet her route out of the chamber is now unhindered, she does not move. Instead, something compels her to follow Eschrik to the window. Looking down, her breath is caught in her throat. Hundreds of feet below, what seems like a thousand bolts of blue light are flashing and pulsating below the Spire, illuminating the Temple in an eerie azure hue.

9

Numerous fires have broken out across the grounds, and smoke coils up the spires of the Temple like black ivy. Extending her perceptual vision, Faetōsa begins to feel a massive presence before her. Marching across the Temple grounds are endless ranks of soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic, arrayed not in a parade formation but in a line of battle. The soldiers are shooting, their blaster fire raining down on a clutch of Jedi on the Temple steps. One by one, the murderous fusillade extinguishes their tiny blue and green incandescent blades. Faetōsa's heart begins to beat against her ribs. She senses Eschrik's body tense. Suddenly, the hiss and crackle of lightsabers and be heard from the interior of the Temple. Shouts and screams rise through the air. How had the attackers infiltrated the Temple so quickly? Before Eschrik can affix his lightsabers to his staff, the door to the mediation chamber is whisked open. A young human boy, perhaps barely a teenager, stumbles into the chamber atop the Tranquility Spire. He sports a Padawan's braid and the simple clothes of a Jedi apprentice, but it is dyed red; from just below the collarbone, is right arm is gone. Breathing heavily and crying, the pale-faced Padawan seals the door and then turns, looking wildly about for a place to hide. His eyes swell at the sight of Eschrik looming over him. He is crazed. He lets out a gasp and collapses, crawling away from the Herglic. "No, don't kill me!" he screams. Faetōsa steps forward. "Ubon-Jun?" she says quizzically.

10

The boy's crazed eyes flit from Eschrik to Faetōsa, and he begins to faint. Eschrik kneels quickly and props Ubon-Jun against the wall, smearing his blood across the wall in the process. "Padawan Jun, what has happened?" Eschrik demands. "Master…we are under attack. The clones have turned on us…some kind of purge…" The boy's eye's roll, unfocused. Eschrik shakes him. "Padawan, how could mere clones do this to us?" Instantly, a look of dread seizes Ubon-Jun, and his clarity is restored momentarily. "No! A Dark Jedi of immense power! He leads the clones against us…my master is dead…I tried to fight…" Eschrik's eyes narrow. "The Sith? Here? Tell me!" Tears begin to well again in Ubon-Jun's eyes, and his body begins to go slack. "I'm sorry, Master Eschrik. I failed you…failed the Jedi…" But then, his eyes bulge violently as a new fear seizes him. "I don't want to die!"Realizing what is about to happen, Eschrik's complexion changes. He strokes Ubon-Jun's blood-matted hair. "Padawan Jun, you have served the Jedi Order admirably. You fought with honor today. You did not give into fear and run; you stood and fought for our Order with bravery, proving yourself as a true warrior." Eschrik faces Faetōsa as he speaks these words. The boy coughs blood. "Do not fear your death, Padawan," Eschrik comforts the boy. "Return to the Force with the knowledge that the Light Side radiates your path, for giving your life in defense of the Jedi Order is the highest honor for all Jedi." The boy's breathing slows. Eschrik continues: "For as long as this Temple stands, all the Jedi will know the name of Padawan Jun and his heroic sacrifice for their Order." As the boy's eyes begin to glaze over, his voice breaks out in one last weak gasp. "But my name is…Ubon-Jun," he whispers, confused. Faetōsa looks away, grimacing. Thunderheads crack above the Tranquility Spire. Raindrops begin to lash the windows. The master and apprentice take no notice.

11

The sounds of more screams rattle into the mediation chamber. Eschrik takes no notice; he lays Ubon-Jun's lifeless body on the floor and flips back the Padawan's robes. Revealed under its folds is a wide puncture burned straight through his chest. "The boy was right," Eschrik says venomously. "This is a lightsaber wound." Eschrik stands hurriedly and walks to the door's control panel. He punches several buttons impatiently, first to lock the door and then to project into the chamber a hologram of a Temple security recording. In the light of the flickering projection, Faetōsa can make out lines of little blue soldiers murdering countless Jedi on the Temple steps. Eschrik grunts and accelerates the footage. In a flurry of images inside the Grand Hall, clone soldiers force three surrendered Jedi to kneel at gunpoint. Then, a figure in black robes appears in the corner of the frame. Eschrik returns the recording to normal speed, watching intently as the figure ignites a blue lightsaber and methodically executes the Jedi by severing their heads from their prostrate bodies. "No, this cannot be," Eschrik whispers in disbelief. "A Dark Jedi desecrates our Temple? He must be stopped, and I will be the one to do it." Eschrik has seen enough; he moves to terminate the projection, but Faetōsa leaps forward, arms outstretched. "Wait! Stop!" Eschrik's motion is arrested. The projection of security footage has jumped from the Great Hall to the Temple's gardens. This new scene is one of organized chaos; several Jedi Knights stand over a motley party of technicians, Padawans, and wounded Jedi, deflecting incoming laser fire with their lightsabers. Faetōsa stares closer, using her Force-sight to carefully read the smallest details of the projection. Though it is difficult to discern, under an auburn tree, she discovers her worst fear: laying beneath the tree are many wounded Jedi, attended to by several healers from the Medical Corps. "Oh no," she whispers in dread, "that's Ty!"

12

Eschrik throws his cloak to the ground and affixes his lightsabers to his staff. He draws himself to his full height, flexing his bulging arms. On the other side of the door, the cracking sound of laser fire and running footsteps grows very near. Closing his eyes and taking several deep breaths, Eschrik approaches the door. "My name is Mdlaren Eschrik. I belong to the Jedi Order," he announces to no one in particular. "As a Jedi Knight and Guardian, I swore to uphold and protect the Jedi Code with my life. I have fought in many battles and slain many foes in the service of the Jedi Council. I have tried to fulfill my oath, to carry out my sacred duty. Now, I can finally make good on that pledge." Twin shafts of blue light leap from Eschrik's staff. Faetōsa looks up at the battle-thirsty Herglic incredulously. He seems animated by an other-wordly energy. "You don't really think that after all we've seen on that recording that you can really take on all those soldiers and that madman with the lightsaber by yourself, do you?" Turning on Faetōsa, Eschrik's face resembles a slab of granite, resolute and immutable. "No, I do not. Together." Faetōsa blinks, trying to register what she has just heard. The very thought of heading through that door and plunging headlong into mortal combat rather than away from it fits like a square peg into a round hole. She shakes her head in incredulity. "Oh no, I am not. There is only one reason I'm going out there, and her name is Tynaki." Eschrik growls. "This is not a time for a rescue, but for combat!" Faetōsa's pulse pounds in her ears. "Eschrik, there are literally thousands of soldiers out there, not to mention what appears to be a powerful Force-user who is murdering Jedi left and right! Heading into that is –" Eschrik cuts her off: "Our duty," he says. "No," Faetōsa shakes her head again. "Our death." With one arm, Eschrik raises his staff high into the air and beats his chest with the other. "Then ours lives will be a glorious sacrifice for the Jedi Order!"

13

A look of revulsion sweeps over the Pantoran's face. "No…" she says simply, shrugging slightly. "I will not go." She sinks to her knees. Eschrik rounds on her, snarling. "You will honor your oath as a Jedi and give your life for the Order!" Faetōsa shrugs again. "I did not live as a dutiful daughter, a loving partner, and thoughtful and empathetic person just to die in the top of this tower for a morality I do not believe in." She looks to the corpse of Ubon-Jun. "I won't let you make me share his fate." Incensed now, Eschrik grasps his staff. "His was a good death, Rei, one a coward like you will never have. Now, stand and fight, as did my Padawans before you!" But Faetōsa remains on her knees. Instead, she begins to loosen her belt and unfold her tunic. "You no longer control me, Eschrik. If you open that door, I will not be going with you to your certain death – I will be going to find Ty." Eschrik takes a long stride towards her, lowering his lightsabers toward her. "You would abandon your oath to the Code, cast off your Jedi garb, and flee like a coward in the Order's darkest hour, when we need you the most?" Faetōsa stops. "Did you not hear anything I've said? I don't want to die as a Jedi!" she yells. "Then you cannot live as a one," mutters Eschrik, lowering his blade uncomfortably close to Faetōsa's head. Her skin crawls as the heat of the blade begins to singe her hair. Yet even as the Herglic's blade comes inches from her face, Faetōsa does not flinch. "I will make you pay for your disobedience, your heresy," the Herglic mutters. He raises his arm, and with a wave of his hand over Faetōsa, the Jedi says, "You will fight or you will be destroyed."

14

Like rain might melt a painting, the details of the mediation chamber begin to wash away from Faetōsa's vision. The windows, which had been filled with the jagged skyline of Coruscant, empty; the pedestals disappear into the floor; the ceiling is converted into a dome, arching over a floor which has now transforming into a pupil, then an iris – this is Faetōsas mind's eye. Still kneeling on the plane of the iris, fully clothes, she looks up at Eschrik. "So," she says calmly, "It has come to this. Affect Mind. The Jedi mind trick again." Eschrik blinks; her conscious presence here on the mental fulcrum was clearly not expected. "Are you really going to try and make me go into battle as an automaton under your spell? And after you've been flagellating yourself in penance for this exact trespass before. You're pathetic, Eschrik." The Herglic looks pained and confused. He flicks his hand across Faetōsa's face again. "You will fight or you will be destroyed," he repeats desperately. Nothing happens. The balance of the iris remains level. "You cannot win my compliance through this cheap trick," Faetōsa says, rising to her feet now. "On Drall, I lacked confidence. Before, my mind was ill-disciplined. But I know where I stand now; my mind is made." Faetōsa stares down the much taller Herglic. "Yet, while we're here, let me show you something," she smirks slightly. Eschrik takes a step back in retreat, but it is of little use. Faetōsa closes her eyes, and the iris on which they balance begins to slowly tilt toward her. Eschrik begins to slide down its face, incrementally at first, but then faster and faster. In an instant, he plunges into the dark recesses of Faetōsa's mind.

15

With a splash, Eschrik lands in a familiar black lake. Swaying and teetering on its glassy surface are dozens of white foggy globules which bob on the ripples generated from his landing. It is silent, save for the Herglic's hapless splashing. Eschrik tries to stand, but before he can orient himself, he finds himself absorbed in one of the white floating clouds of memory. The blackness of the lake disappears, replaced by a world of soft snow. Looking left and right, Eschrik sees a man near him who he recognizes as a Pantoran. The man, with skin worn by many smiles, reaches out toward him and hands Eschrik a necklace with a violet gem. "Just like your mother," he says warmly. A great pang of yearning comes over him, and Eschrik feels his eyes water involuntarily. Whose tears were these? The answer, if he even could discern it, does not come, for Eschrik feels himself carried into a new memory. He shivers; the snow has turned to ice, and the pleasant wind of Pantora has been whipped into a screaming jet stream. He is kneeling in a blizzard. How could it be so cold? Eschrik begins to feels heat, like a burning fire directly on his skin. He looks down at his exposed knees, arms, hardly covered – he is horrified to find himself badly frostbitten. Eschrik looks up, squinting in the harsh wind. A woman leers at him. "Master Val Aath!" Fear tinged with anger swells within him, as Val Aath cackles, leaping for his throat. In an instant, Eschrik reaches for his violet lightsaber, which he ignites and drives into his former master. He pushes her body off his with disgust, but with none of the strength of his Herglic frame, Eschrik can only collapse into the snow. Then, with a gust of air, Eschrik feels himself plunging once again into the black lake. But something is wrong. He stands, wiping water off his face. The white aqueous pods of memories are all gone, save for one. A pulling sensation draws Eschrik towards this solitary memory. When he merges with it, he is transported far away.

16

Auburn clouds tear across the sky in a high wind. Eschrik stands before a large audience of Herglic. His stomach tightens into a knot, for he recognizes them immediately. "You mighta thought that his privileged youth wouldda taught him the nature of an oath. Our father Bolek spent all his generosity on him, and what did Mdlaren do in return? He ran," spits Eliasz. Provoked, Eschrik tries to growl at his uncouth brother, but no sound comes out. Instead, he finds himself frozen before a campfire, trying to dodge the family's suspicious glares. He tries to break away from their withering stares, but he cannot. Eschrik realizes he is not actually here; this is Faetōsa's memory. Zeimo steps towards him – or her. "We're at an impasse, Rei. My brothers and sisters and cousins beyond count demand Mdlaren's head. But my son and I, and perhaps several others" –Zeimo looks pleadingly at the family –"feel that we don't need to perpetuate more violence." The clan boos and leers. Zeimo continues. "Vladek is on his way. If he arrives and we have not made a decision, he will kill Eschrik with his own two hands." Cheers erupt from the family. Glancing to the transporter where Eschrik knows that he is being held in captivity in the reality of the past, the memory takes on the feeling of an out of body experience. But even then, as he looks on the thick hull of the transporter, he feels only a little pity emanating from within himself. Is this how Faetōsa had felt about him as she had stared at his makeshift prison? He – or she – looks back to the assembled crowd. Adlarik moves towards the fire. "Tell us, Rei. You know him better than we do now. Does Eschrik deserve to die?" All eyes are now fixed on him. Eschrik endures cold wave of fear, feels Faetōsa's unsteadiness in the face of this murderous bunch. Then, he begins to speak. But it is not his voice.

17

"Eschriks, it's true; if you allow Mdlaren to go, he will return to the life he has chosen to lead. Vladek will not have his justice. Bolek will not be avenged. But you are wrong to think that Eschrik will leave Giju without consequence. You see, Mdlaren and I are Jedi. That means we have exchanged our lives and conscience for a prison of strictures. The Jedi's theology sounds harmless enough: 'There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no death, there is the Force.' It sounds appealing, even, but only to someone who hasn't seriously considered its ramifications. As a Jedi Padawan, I am not to feel certain feelings like fear, love, or regret. You must understand that as a Jedi, all relationships outside the Order are forbidden. That means I can look forward to a life where I can never be in love, where I can never make a new friend. I cannot keep my own affects, which means I cannot do simple but meaningful things like keep a journal or make art. This is a life where I can never again even dress myself! As a Jedi, I cannot live my life as I see fit. And why? All because I have an extra-sensory perception of structure of the universe. If being Force-sensitive means you must become a Jedi, well, then I wouldn't wish this skill on anybody. So as I look forward to the rest of my life as a Jedi, I see a future where I cannot change, bound by a Code that does not grow as I grow. I mortgaged my life at age fourteen in ways I could not understand. And so did Mdlaren."

18

"So yes, if you let Mdlaren go, he will survive. But Mdlaren is ultimately, like me, trapped. His life, once a galaxy of expanding possibility, is now severely constricted. The Jedi have re-oriented him, a living, sentient, emotionally sophisticated person, to yearn for little more than oblivion. Did you know that your younger brother aspires to be little more than a weapon for the Jedi Council? The fulfillment of your brother's life is little more than a death-wish. I don't know if there is a life after this one. The Jedi could be right; for all I know, an afterlife made possible by the Force may exist. But what I _do_ know is that if we make the pursuit of such an afterlife the entire focus of our lives, we lose out on the here and the now. Whenever the Jedi talk about 'becoming one with the Force' or 'achieving transcendence,' it's like they're giving up on the richness or meaningfulness of their lives in the present, the only life they are guaranteed to have, in favor of the mere hope for an idealized afterlife. If there is such a place, who knows who we will meet there? Who knows how we will feel? We don't. Instead, we should be able to live in the present, _for_ the present. What's worse, Mdlaren is convinced that his obedience to these strictures in not a blind and unquestioning faith, but rather an expression of his vitality, of his devotion to a high and worthy cause. How? By lionizing weakness and passivity and asceticism, the Jedi have made it so that we tighten the screws of our own shackles. Did you know that after he wronged me, he flagellated himself? Somehow, the Jedi have made him so that he is both his own prisoner and his own warden, and convinced himself to throw away the key. Brothers and sisters, this life of unquestioning belief, compliance, and obedience is hardly a life worth living. They say that the Force binds us all, but the Jedi Order have made it so that it binds some of us more than others."

19

"You've been contemplating the consequences of Mdlaren's freedom. You want him to suffer for abandoning your family. You want there to be penalty for his actions. But you must believe me when I say that he will suffer: he is a Jedi. If you have your doubts about what I have said, that's fine. But take a moment to consider – if you let your eldest brother come here and kill Mdlaren, everything the Jedi have taught him about you will be validated. Mdlaren will die knowing his relationship with his brothers was nothing more than a thin link easily parted by a petty blood feud. He'll go to his end comforted in knowing that family ties are nothing more than chains. If Vladek kills Mdlaren, he will spend his last breath repudiating his bond with you as the Order would have him do; his renunciation of his family as unwelcome attachments that seek only to undermine him will be given sanction by the Order, and he will then die a solider for the morality of the Jedi. You'll prove him right, and then you most certainly will not attain the justice you seek."

20

"But what will happen if you allow him to live? If you let him live...well, then he'll be forced to confront the fact that family _does_ matter. If you spare him, he will no longer be able to dismiss the meaningfulness of your connection; he'll be forced to confront the fact that what the Jedi encouraged him to sever is not just an arbitrary bloodline, but rather is a meaningful bond that saved his life. Eschriks, the best revenge on a Jedi is to make them realize just how connected they are to the people in the world around them, and the great extent by which the Code isolates them. By living together well, you shame the Jedi. Perhaps in receiving your mercy on the grounds of your forgiveness, he'll finally see the mistake in his unswerving certainty in the Jedi Code."

21

"Ultimately, however, it is for my own sake that I hope you'll spare Mdlaren. Having his family spare his life might just sow the seed of doubt that will sprout roots and break apart the foundation of his faith in the Jedi Order. I want to force him to confront his own choices, to question his decision to imbibe the morality of the Jedi so completely. Right now, as a part of that morality, my life as a Padawan belongs wholly in his hands. He is exactly like a priest of the old religions, setting up expectations and then exploiting my feelings of guilt when I fail to meet them – and then turning this guilt into sin. Then, having made my suffering a state of self-punishment, he wins mastery over me. I can't change that. But maybe you can. If I can convince you to spare Mdlaren, I will have other thrown his yoke, for I will have done it to save myself. I fear that Mdlaren's unchallenged zeal in the service to the Jedi Order will encourage not greater longevity in my life, but will only hasten its expiration. On the other hand, spending all my years of youth and achieving old age as a Jedi doesn't sound much better. Therefore, the only hope I have for a better life lies in changing Mdlaren's. By altering the trajectory of my master's thinking, maybe you'll be altering the trajectory of my life too. Spare him, and you may spare me. That's all I have to say."

22

With a snap, Eschrik finds himself back in the mediation chamber high above the Tranquility Spire. The iris, the black lake, the white clouds are all gone – once again, Giju is now only a memory. Though it feels as if he has been absent for hours, the Herglic is surprised to find himself exactly returned exactly to where he had first departed: facing Faetōsa with an ignited lightsaber blade mere inches away from his kneeling Padawan's face. Faetōsa looks up at him, expressionless. "Now you know. I won't fight you, Mdlaren." Suddenly, as if he is inheriting feelings from someone else who lived long ago, the argument, the attack on the Temple, and the death of the Youngling rushes back to him. Eschrik returns her stare. "You killed Master Val Aath?" he stammers. Faetōsa retrieves her lightsaber from her belt, and Eschrik instinctively raises his own blade. "The Jedi gave me this weapon and license to use it, but I don't want that power anymore," she says plaintively. "I never did." With a twisting motion, Faetōsa removes the power cell of her lightsaber from the rest of its metal housing. Eschrik watches, horrified. Twisting off the radiator casing segment, she opens the saber hilt to reveal a tiny violet gem serving as the weapon's focusing crystal. At once, Eschrik recognizes the crystal: it had been given to him – rather, to her – on Pantora. Casting off the fine alloy struts that hold it in place, Faetōsa plucks out the gem and returns it to the bare metal necklace from where it came. Her discarded lightsaber hilt falls to the ground in pieces, inert. Faetōsa kneels before her former master, defenseless. "I won't be fighting anyone, anymore," she says. "Especially you."

23

From beyond the point of his saber inches from her nose, Eschrik studies his apprentice. He surveys her expression. Her face is calm but stern, an exemplar of resolve and determination. This expression was the last thing Val Aath had seen before her death, he muses. This was the expression that had stopped Eliasz in his tracks. And it was this expression that stayed Eschrik's hand now. Though her eyes are covered, Eschrik suspects that Faetōsa can see right through him. He begins to laugh. Faetōsa turns her head slightly. Then, Eschrik's chuckle grows into a full bellow – throwing back his head, the Jedi Knight erupts in deep, melodious, chest-shaking laughter. The ringing of his mirth clashes harshly with the sounds of death beyond the door. Faetōsa stares in disbelief, her mouth slightly agape. What could the Herglic possibly find funny at moment like this? Before she can ask, Eschrik brings his lightsaber blade toward her cheek. "For your sins against the Jedi Order, I will now render justice upon you, Padawan Rei." So this is how Faetōsa dies. Overwhelmed by fear, her Force-sight vanishes, throwing her into complete darkness. She inhales sharply, expecting his blade to fall on her neck in a split-second. "Please let me find my way to my father," is her last thought as she feels the burn of the zealot's lightsaber as it grazes her neck.

24

But the anticipated blow never falls. Afraid even to breathe for fear of shattering the status quo, Faetōsa stands, unwavering. What had happened? Her every muscle still tense, she coaxes forth threads of light from within her to illuminate her surroundings. With the tendrils of her Force-sight bringing the world into focus, Faetōsa quickly discerns Eschrik's mighty figure still towering over her. She can feel his lightsaber blade as it hovers above her shoulder, where it has severed her Padawan braid. Faetōsa glances at the weapon, and then to Eschrik. "What are you doing?" she asks, baffled. Eschrik smirks. "Why, I've rendered the punishment most suited for your heresy, Rei." Faetōsa eyes the fallen Padawan braid beside her. The Herglic Jedi holds his staff aloft and begins to speak. "The Trial of Courage is a test of your persistence in the face of danger and overwhelming odds. In defending yourself against the madness of Val Aath, by thwarting my family's thirst for blood, and by standing against your own master's attempts to infiltrate your mind, you have shown great determination and courage, befitting the highest standards of our Order." Faetōsa's face turns ashen. "No," she whispers, "No, you cannot do this." But Eschrik pays her no heed, his proclamation inexorable. "With your successful passage of each of the five Jedi Trials, I have no choice but to release you from your tutelage as my Padawan and bestow unto you the rank, title, and privileges of Knighthood." He lowers his lightsaber over her shoulder once more. "As it is right and fitting as your former master, I dub thee Faetōsa Rei of Pantora, Jedi Knight." Hanging her head, Faetōsa's whispers, "You bastard."

25

A series of heavy banging erupts against the door. "We know you're in there! Give yourselves up, Jedi traitors!" Eschrik smirks anew. "It sounds as if those cloned abominations overheard your knighting ceremony. My mistake," he says, feigning contrition. Faetōsa glares at Eschrik, and he shrugs his broad shoulders. "But perhaps you can go make friends with those clones too?" Clamoring to her feet, Faetōsa stabs a finger into Eschrik's chest. "You're a damn fool if you think what you just did makes any difference to me," she fumes. "Empty words and meaningless titles, that's all." Eschrik smiles darkly, a malevolent look animating his features. "Do you really think that horde out there cares at all for your semantics, Rei?" He points his lightsaber towards the door. "Tell me: if you somehow survive this, what do you think is going to happen then? You will not be able to escape your identity as a Jedi fugitive, regardless of how you feel about your title." Faetōsa furtively glances out the window. "There are no witnesses, no Jedi Council to endorse –" But Eschrik is smilingly, undeterred. Seemingly indifferent to the imminent attack of the clones, Eschrik approaches the window of the mediation chamber and raises his arms triumphantly. Below, the Jedi Temple is wreathed in flame. "As I have now finally raised an apprentice to Knighthood, I myself ascend to the rank of Jedi Master. Now, I can go to my death with my fallen comrades not just as a loyal servant but a true visionary of my Order. My journey as a Jedi is now complete." Eschrik turns to Faetōsa, beaming. "As for you, you'll have to live the rest of your life knowing that you abandoned your master to die. Perhaps then you'll learn what I could not teach you: that there are worse things than death."

26

Gripping his saberstaff, Eschrik approaches the door's control panel. Faetōsa shakes her head. "Eschrik, don't do it." Faetōsa interrupts. Eschrik ignores her. "I am free of my obligations to you, Knight Rei." The Herglic takes a deep breath, readies his weapon, and reaches to open the door. "You look at me like I am a crazed cultist. And when I may have erred, the error was mine alone. But I've been nothing but a steadfast Jedi." "That's the problem," Faetōsa mutters under her breath. "Just tell me one thing, Eschrik." At this, he pauses, his finger suspended above the control panel. Faetōsa holds out her arms in wonder. "Just how representative of the Jedi are you, truly?" The Herglic Jedi smiles slightly. "That is for you to decide." Then, his finger falls, and the door to the Tranquility Spire opens to reveal a score of soldiers of the Grand Army of the Republic. In an instant, Eschrik is upon them in blurring speed. In one efficient slicing motion of his staff, the Jedi decapitates those five soldiers standing closest to the door. Even before their bodies hit the floor, Eschrik plunges into combat, his blades whirling scythes of death. As the antechamber is filled with blue laser fire, Eschrik is already amidst the mob of soldiers, cutting huge swathes into their ranks. As the doors to the mediation chamber begin to close again, Eschrik looks over his shoulder and calls out to Faetōsa: "May the Force be with you, Jedi!" The doors close with a hiss as Eschrik's massive figure is at last obscured by a teeming mass of white armor. Behind the door, Faetōsa can hear the whirring of lightsabers, the shrieking of soldiers, and a stream of endless laser fire. Her breathing accelerated, Faetōsa approaches the door and strains against the pounding of her heart against her chest to judge the momentum of the fatal duel. Despite pressing her ear against the door, Faetōsa knows in her heart that there can only be one outcome – indeed, the only outcome Eschrik desired. She hears a final bellicose roar, the screams of several clones, followed by the sound of a great weight falling unresponsive to the ground. Then, there is only silence.

27

Out of the deathly hush comes a crashing sound of rent metal. Faetōsa jumps, startled. "Your master is dead, Jedi," announces a surviving clone soldier, slamming his rifle on the door. Hitherto frozen, Faetōsa desperately sprints for the door's controls, quickly re-engaging the lock. Dazed, Faetōsa retreats and walks listlessly towards the window. She was trapped. The pounding increases, but the Pantoran is numb to it. Peering at the Temple grounds awash in flame, Faetōsa is struck by the devastation. Bodies of Jedi and soldiers alike are splayed across the steps. So much death. So much violence. So much hate. Who had done this?, she wonders. The blows against the door begin to grow louder, and Faetōsa can sense the metal begin to buckle. The Pantoran sinks to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest. Was Eschrik really dead? Was she really about to follow? She looks around the mediation chamber; there was no other way in or out other than that one door. Scanning the flooring, Faetōsa spots the hilt of her lightsaber. She crawls toward the debris, inspecting the pieces in her hands. She attempts to fit them together, but it is no use; without its violet core, the weapon is lifeless. Then, a molten hole in the door emerges, and a shower of sparks begin to spurt from the breech. The door begins to melt. Without her lightsaber, Faetōsa feels powerless. Her heart pounds, her lungs burn. Paralyzed, tears of despair begin to well in her eyes. This chamber would be her tomb after all.

28

Suddenly, like a miniscule stone precipitates a great avalanche, Faetōsa is struck by a tiny thought that galvanizes her into action. What about Ty? Though her Jedi weapon is in pieces, she still has the resources of her ingenuity, her bravery, and her courage. Jumping to her feet, Faetōsa abandons her lightsaber and her despair. What had she been thinking? With renewed resolved, Faetōsa realizes that she has everything she will need to survive this night. Quickly now, she strips off her Jedi tunic and stands before the door a citizen of Pantora, arms outstretched. As the soldiers continue to melt through the door with a torch, she reaches out with tendrils of the Force and pries the door open at with great force. Unprepared for the breech, three soldiers tumble forward into the mediation chamber. As two of the soldiers clamor to their feet and raise their weapons against her, Faetōsa wells a reservoir of Force-energy and thrusts them out of the chamber with a blast, sending them cart wheeling into the antechamber. Careful not to scan the exterior with great detail, Faetōsa wraps a tentacle of light around the third soldier and yanks him toward her in the air at great speed; then, in a split second, she throws up a wall of Force-energy. The flying soldier crashes into the invisible barricade and falls to the ground still. Retrieving the fallen soldier's blaster rifle, Faetōsa reaches down to his utility belt and rummages through it to extract a grappling hook. Steadily placing her feet in a wide stance, Faetōsa raises one of the heavy mediation pedestals into the air using the Force and sends it crashing through the chamber's window and out into the night sky. With a sucking sound, a high wind sweeps into the mediation chamber, tousling Faetōsa's hair. Undeterred by the elements, Faetōsa secures the grapple and swings her body out of the damaged window. Without looking down from her precarious position atop the Tranquility Spire, the Pantoran takes a deep and steadying breath and begins to repel out the window and into the bluster of the dark night sky.

29

The instant Faetōsa's feet reach the base of the Tranquility Spire, she releases the cable burning into her trembling palms. Without thinking, she dashes across the stone roof of the Temple towards an exposed courtyard on the periphery of the monastery. Some presence seems to draw her there. Sliding down an angled marbled surface, Faetōsa finds herself in the Temple garden. Scanning the garden, Faetōsa senses that there are no survivors; still, an unknown light draws her inexorably towards the foot of an auburn tree. Crouching, Faetōsa steals across the courtyard towards the tree, the sound of her footsteps the only sign of life among the silent stones. There, a handful of motionless bodies are intertwined, some in white armor and others in tanned robes, all stained red. Among the roots, Faetōsa begins to feverishly search the bodies of the fallen. Then she collapses against the tree trunk, her hand suppressing a gasp. Here, among these dark bodies, Faetōsa finds Ty's softly glowing form. The Pantoran healer's face is oddly peaceful, her pulsating body lying on its side as if in an afternoon reverie, a length of gauze in her hands. Faetōsa stifles a sob. How had she let it come to this? Rocking forwards and back in shock, Faetōsa's head hangs in defeat. Reaching out to grasp Ty's cold hand in her own, Faetōsa feels the deepest guilt wash over her. "I'm so sorry, Ty" she whispers. "This was all my fault." Reaching behind her head, Faetōsa unties the sash that has been her blindfold ever since leaving the home she had shared with Ty. She places her sash over Ty's serene face, her own contorting in sordid resolution. "I will miss you," Faetōsa whispers. Minutes of silence pass.

30

Eventually, Faetōsa tears finally begin to dry. She gently lays Ty's arm across her chest and stands, her own legs sore from her vigil. A frown flashes on Faetōsa's face, a look of comprehension registering. Ty's plain Jedi tunic is ripped across the front in one long, clean slash. The tell-tale sign of a lightsaber blade. With a start, Faetōsa realizes she is not alone. On the far side of the garden, pausing in an exposed passageway leading towards the interior of the Temple, a hooded figure in black lingers, an ignited blue lightsaber at his side. Faetōsa freezes. Though her blaster lies at her feet, she dare not retrieve it lest her motion betray her presence. Across the courtyard, the hooded figure stops and seems to look directly at Faetōsa. How can he possibly see her in this darkness? With a start, Faetōsa remembers her vulnerability. Raising her arms slightly, she wills the tendrils, threads, and fingers of the Force which supply her Force-vision back into the tips of her fingers, back into the well of her being from where they originate. As Ty's body ceases to glow, Faetōsa's world is slowly obscured, replaced by blackness. With the strands of light now fully withdrawn, Faetōsa's blindness returns. No longer aided by the Force, she strains to hear the man's footsteps, but can discern nothing but the beating of her heart. Daring not even to breath, Faetōsa waits. After what seems like hours, Faetōsa senses that she must risk her flight from the garden or meet her fate. Mouthing silent words of goodbye to Ty, Faetōsa takes a deep breath, seizes the blaster, and makes a break from the garden. Running headlong into the dark, Faetōsa flees the Jedi Order.


	13. Epilogue: Apostasy

Apostasy

A total desertion of or departure from one's morality.

 _"_ _The Jedi Order is your life. You can't just throw it away like this. Ahsoka, you are making a mistake._

 _"_ _Maybe. But I have to sort this out on my own."_ -Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker to Padawan Ahsoka Tano, _The Clone Wars: "The Wrong Jedi"_

1

Stealing low across the debris-strewn grounds, Faetōsa approaches the low wall that separates the tumult of the city of Courscant from the supposed serenity of the Jedi Temple. Though she cannot sense the pursuit of the man in black, she takes no chances. Unwilling to be caught as a Jedi this close to achieving anonymity, Faetōsa refuses to extend her Force-sight. Stiffly holding her arms out in front of her, Faetōsa feels her way forward, groping with great uncertainty across the vast open expanse of the Temple grounds towards what she believes to be an opening in the exterior wall. She had heard the whine of a gunship overhead, smelled the smoke, and hurried on. She pauses now, using her other senses to detect the nervous chatter of a crowd rapidly approaching. In an instant, Faetōsa drops her blaster rifle and kicks it away from her, stumbling toward the sound of the host of onlookers. These strangers would be her salvation.

2

She can make out the voices now: "Is it a Seperatist attack?" "I heard the Jedi are having a civil war!" "One can only imagine what goes on in that place!" At first, there are a dozen such voices around her, but these few are followed by scores, and rapidly by hundreds of others. People are pouring out from the city towards the Temple, gathering like moths to a flame. Soon Faetōsa is enveloped by oblivious onlookers, too busy gazing at the smoke rising from the Jedi Temple to see one its ranks among them. Relieved by the shroud of inscrutability afforded by the curious mob, Faetōsa pushes her way through a seam of people to get to the open street. The crowd jostles to get closer to the Temple, and she is shoved sideways. "Hey, watch it!" comes a gravelly voice besides her. "Sorry," Faetōsa murmurs with little patience, "but I can't see." The voice pauses. Without Ty's sash to hide her unfocused eyes, Faetōsa blindness is woefully apparent to the speaker. She looks down, embarrassed. "No," returns the voice after a moment, "I'm the one that's sorry. I didn't realize…" The voice clears its throat. "Can I give you a hand at least?" A memory flickers quickly in Faetōsa's mind, but it is gone like a flame in the wind. "It's fine," she replies. "I'm just trying to get out of here."

3

The voice replies: "Well, you're almost to the street, just keep going, but…" Then a loud fearful voice from the crowd rings out:"I've just heard, from the HoloNet: the Jedi attempted a coup! They tried to assassinate the Chancellor!" A ripple of gasps churns through the crowd. "Those cultists have been in power for far too long!" yells another. A series endorsements ring out. But the voice of man standing nearby sounds skeptical. "A coup d'état? The Jedi? They're good people, those Jedi. I can't see it." Faetōsa brushes off the guiding hand of the man in the crowd. "I can," she says quietly. With renewed vigor, Faetōsa does not wait for him to reply. She pushes forward and finally breaks out of the suffocating press of the crowd and into the open streets, roads that seem to stretch into countless city blocks with no end. Then the fugitive Jedi turns down a busy thoroughfare and disappears, once more just a nameless woman from Pantora.


End file.
